


When It Is Dark Enough, You Can See The Stars.

by ladyofthursday



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bottom Dean, Bottoming from the Top, Doctor Dean, Enemies to Friends to Lovers (sorta), Implied/Reference Violence/Sexual Assault, Mobster Castiel, Multi, Oral Sex, Possible Character Death, Prostitution, Smut, Switch Castiel, Switch Dean, Tattooed Castiel, Top Castiel, Violence, Watch for specific tags at the start of each chapter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-26
Updated: 2018-01-29
Packaged: 2018-10-24 07:19:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 45,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10736853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyofthursday/pseuds/ladyofthursday
Summary: Castiel thinks his life is hard enough as the youngest brother of the Novak family - a sprawling criminal empire from which there is no escape. But when an unexpected hospital trip brings him face to face with a Doctor Dean Winchester, his life suddenly becomes a heck of a lot more complicated - especially as he might be the most infuriating man Castiel has ever encountered...As the darkness of his family's world, and the FBI, close in around Castiel, could Dean finally be the one to bring in some light? Or will it overwhelm both of them?(Title is from Ralph Waldo Emerson)





	1. Cold November Nights

**Author's Note:**

> So I've had this idea floating around in my head and I can't shake it. It was this or some fluff so I thought I'd start with this.  
> I can't always promise this will be a pleasant ride - there will be violence and death and some general horribleness so please watch out for specific tags and notes in each chapter. I will also probably kill people - just a heads up now (it won't be Dean, Cas or Sam though - I'm not that cruel). But I love a happy ending so there should be that too. There may also be smut - I've never really written/published it before though so it depends on how I think it reads. If anyone would like to volunteer as beta for it I will love you forever and possibly send you cookies... 
> 
> This chapter takes place in a hospital and does mention assault but there aren't specific details. However if it does make you uncomfortable you can skim over it.

It was a cold Friday night in November and the hospital thronged with people. Doctors and nurses wove their way in and out of the patients crowded into the emergency room and there was a hubbub of noise made by people and technology.

The (very young) nurse on the front desk looked decidedly harassed as the phones rang continuously and a never-ending stream of patients approached her and while some waited quietly, some were making it their point to be as demanding and obnoxious as possible.

Castiel slid through the doors, between two people arguing about something or other, and craned his neck to see over the crowd. His tan trench coat flapped gently as the heater above the door caught the loose tail ends, and he pulled it closer around him. At least it was warmer in here than it was outside. He muttered impatiently and beckoned the tall, dark man, who had entered the hospital behind him, to follow and began to wind his way towards the desk.

“Excuse me,” he was irritated already and it wasn’t helped when the nurse held up a finger to indicate she wasn’t listening. It wasn’t her fault, of course, he knew that but still her lackadaisical nature was dancing on his last nerve. “Excuse me.” He added, his tone shorter, icier this time.

“Can I help you Sir?” she squeaked, practically throwing the phone back down like it was some sort of disgusting creature.  

“I hope so, I’m looking for a young lady who I believe has been bought in here. She has pale skin and red hair, around twenty-two years old. Her name is Anna Milton.” The details rolled off his tongue as he checked his watch, “I believe she would have arrived around an hour ago.”

“I’ll try and find her for you.” And the nurse was off like a shot, clutching a clipboard to her chest. 

“Uriel,” Castiel said, half turning to look at the other man, “can you see her?”

“No Sir, I don’t believe she’s in here.”

Castiel nodded, his hands itched in frustration. He desperately wanted a cigarette. Instead he pulled at the dark tie around his neck and unbuttoned the top button of his shirt, flexing his head slightly and hearing the familiar pop in his neck. He glanced at his watch again. He said nothing else to Uriel but instead resumed his scrutiny of the room.

“Excuse me?” came the squeaking voice of the nurse behind him, “Sir?”

Castiel turned to look at her and she flinched slightly, “Yes?”

“I’ve found Miss Milton, she’s in a cubicle on the next floor. Can I ask how you know her?”

“I’m her friend, she texted me that she was being brought here and asked me to come find her.” He can feel a soft smile appearing on his face, it’s part of the truth at least, he realised. “I apologise if I seem a little tense, I’m just worried about her.”

The nurse visibly relaxes at this and smiles at him, it suits her much more than the worried look she’s been wearing.

“That’s ok, if you head upstairs she’s in the ward on your left. I’ll let them know that you’re on your way up.”

“Thank-you.”

xxx

The first floor is a lot quieter than the ground one but it’s still full of life. The nurse on the desk directs them to Anna’s bed, which is at the far end of the ward and half enclosed with curtains. Castiel nods and asks that Anna is transferred to a private room as soon as possible, the tone in his voice making it very clear that this isn’t a request but more of an order.

“Uh-huh, and who are you exactly?” says the nurse, whose tag reads _M. Mosley_.

“I’m a concerned friend,” answers Castiel, his voice level and calm, “and I’m also the one paying the bill so please move my friend into a private room, if you would be so kind.”

The nurse mutters darkly at him about queue jumpers but doesn’t say any more and soon Castiel finds himself entering a small, private hospital room with large windows overlooking the city. He glances at them momentarily as he enters, leaving Uriel outside on the door, before his eyes slide over to Anna who’s propped up against several pillows.

“Hello Anna.” He tries to keep his face relaxed and his expression neutral as he looks over her, but it’s difficult even with his life experience. Her face is battered and bloody and there’s a large bandage covering half of her head. She’s wearing a hospital gown and there’s an IV line going into her hand but he can’t tell much more without speaking to a doctor, especially as he can’t see a chart clipped to the end of the bed. She tries to smile weakly at him but can’t seem to manage it and instead gazes up at the ceiling, her eyes half glazed.

“My name is Mr Collins, do you remember me? Your employer sent me.” He sits down in the chair beside the bed and reaches out for her hand. Her skin is cool and she flinches away from his touch. “Everything is going to be ok,” he continues, trying to add a soothing note to his voice although it’s not something he’s used to. “I promise.”

There’s a quiet pause before Anna shifts slightly in the bed, rustling the sheets and wincing as she turns, confirming Castiel’s suspicions that she’s more injured than he can see.

“Loki sent you?”

Castiel nods and tries to give her a comforting smile, silently wondering why Gabriel had to pick such a ridiculous name to go by. Even it was better than his other suggestion of Mr Candy. Luckily, in a sense, this had had been vetoed immediately by Michael, who said it made him sound like some sort of porn star or low class pimp. And nobody disagrees with Michael. Gabriel may have been a pimp, but there was nothing low class about his operation or his girls. That was Lucifer’s business.

“Yes. You activated the alarm app in your phone this evening and we tracked it here.” Another pause and Castiel routes in the pocket of his coat for his phone, sending a quick text to his brother to let him know where he was. Gabriel’s response was instantaneous and if Castiel didn’t know any better he’d bet his brother was pouring over his phone, waiting for a message from him. Except it probably true. He glanced at it, trying to ascertain the meaning from the jumbled collection of letters and emoticons, but gave up with a sigh. Would it kill his brother to use actual words?

“Who did this to you Anna?” he looks up at her, but avoids direct eye contact, watching as she bites her lip nervously. There’s a black-blue bruise blossoming on her cheekbone and the lip she’s playing with is spilt and swollen. “Anna, please, you’re not in any trouble, you know that. I just need confirmation. We will protect you, I promise, and pay your medical bills. Nobody will hurt you again.”

“I can’t,” she stammers out, looking at the floor rather than Castiel. He sighs deeply. He’d met Anna before, once or twice, when she’d started working for his brother and she’s always seemed so fiery, so certain of herself. Now she was a battered wreck. Gabriel would be fuming. Very few people ever dared to lay a hand on one of his girls. Well if they wanted to keep their hands anyway.

“You can Anna.” He keeps his voice soft and even, “I just need a name, his client number, any identifiable features. Anything at all.”

In truth, he doesn’t need anything. Not really. He could just call Kali and have her cross reference the calls that came in and find the last client that requested Anna.

“He didn’t… I didn’t… I wasn’t even working this evening… I have finals next week and I asked for the weekend off… but he found me anyway… I was walking home from my friend’s house and he… he followed me…” she doesn’t say any more, she doesn’t need to, the meaning is very clear and it makes Castiel’s blood boil. He wants to squeeze her hand, but can’t bring himself too.

“I’m sorry.” And he means it, he genuinely does. “Anna,” he hesitates before he continues, “please, let me help you.”

She shakes her head and pulls her hand away from him. Castiel sits back in the chair and sighs. He doesn’t want to push her, he doesn’t want to put pressure on her. This certainly makes it more difficult, but not impossible, it will just require more digging and time. Gabriel has made it very clear that he wants the information before the police get involved. Besides they don’t want to drag Anna into this, this is something best handled within the family.

They sit in silence for a while. Castiel cracks his fingers and taps them on his thighs as the cravings return. Why the fuck did he think he could quit?

“Anna-” he begins again but he can’t get anything out before the door swings open and a smartly dressed figure steps through the door.

“Hey, who ordered the muscle?”

Castiel looks round and feels his eyes widen at least two inches at the swaggering man standing at the foot of Anna’s bed. He’s a mixture of sharp, lightly stubbled cheekbones and smouldering eyes with a slight smirk curling across his lips. This is a man who definitely knows how good looking he is. He’s wearing a dress shirt and pants, but no tie and the collar of the shirt is casually unbuttoned, with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. His clothes seem to cling to him, calmly accentuating the soft curves of his muscles and highlighting all of his good points – which Castiel notes, appears to be everything. There’s a stethoscope hanging around his neck and he’s casually examining Anna’s chart, one hand leaning on the rail at the end of her bed. The man seems to exude confidence and charm.

Castiel realises his mouth seems to have gone very dry suddenly. He swallows before he speaks, trying to get some moisture back in his mouth.

“The gentleman is with me, is he causing a problem?” he realises his tone is probably too cold and defensive. Apparently, it seems to be Castiel’s default setting, especially if he's been caught off guard. The doctor raises an eyebrow, looking Castiel up and down before he answers.

“No not really, I just wondered why we needed extra security.”

“Well as you can see, Miss Milton has been attacked, my assistant is merely here to prevent any further incidents.”

“Do you really think she’s gonna be attacked here?” there is a hard, questioning note in his voice, as if he’s taking this as a personal attack. Castiel sighs,

“It’s merely a precaution.” He doesn’t wish to explain any further, there is no need to go into any more detail about _why_ he takes a security guard with him and why he knows that hospitals are unsafe. He looks at the doctor again, trying to look past the handsome exterior which his brain seems to be particularly desperate to focus on. “I apologise, I didn’t get your name doctor…”

“Winchester.” He answers, still regarding Castiel with suspicion, “Dean Winchester. And you are?”

“You may call me Mr Collins, Doctor Winchester.”  

Dean says nothing, instead he raises his eyebrows before he resumes looking at Anna’s chart. He glances up at her and his expression softens. There’s a reassuring look on his face now and his body language shifts instantly, Castiel notices, he looks more open and less threatening. He’s trying to keep Anna calm. Castiel internally approves, but also sighs at the stupidity of the hospital assigning Anna a male physician in her current condition. Still, it probably depends on who’s available and Dean has given no indications so far that he would be anything less than capable.

“Anna… I’m Dean and I’m your doctor,” his voice is soft and warm. It gives Castiel the feeling that he’s just been wrapped in a blanket or sunk into a hot bath. “I’m gonna have a chat with you about how you feel and discuss what we’re gonna do next. I’ve asked one of the nurses to come up too and if you’re uncomfortable at any time, you just say the word ok?”

Anna nods and resumes pulling at her lip again. It looks to Castiel like she wants to say something, but no words come. The door clicks open again and the imposing figure of the nurse from the front desk enters. She’s wearing another comforting expression although she definitely isn’t impressed to see Castiel again and pointedly ignores him. The nurse and doctor confer quietly for a moment. Castiel watches them silently. It’s clear from the way they talk that they’ve known each other for a while.

“Ok,” Dean says, softly, turning to face Castiel and fixing him the full power of those smouldering eyes. It’s a shame, part of Cas’s brain thinks, that he can’t see what colour they are from this distance. The rest of his brain quickly squashes all of these thoughts – this is not the time or the place to start noticing the attractiveness of the medical staff. “Mr Collins, could you wait outside please.”

His tone is firm. This is not a request, it is an order merely phrased politely.

“May I ask why?”

“You are not a relation of Miss Milton’s nor are you her boyfriend, partner or husband.” Dean’s tone is cool, firm and decided.

Castiel sighs and stands up to leave. Anna suddenly seems to notice him moving and grabs his hand, digging her nails painfully into his palm, a look of panic filling her eyes.

“It’s ok Anna,” Castiel says, softly, bending down to gently tuck a stray strand of hair behind her exposed ear. “I’ll be just outside the door, if you need me or want me for anything just say and I’m sure Dr Winchester or Nurse Mosley here will let me in. Ok? They’re going to help you.”

Anna nods again, releasing his hand slightly, but gently tugged on the cuff of his coat to pull him closer. He bent down closer to her, still trying to keep in distance, but Anna insisted on pulling him right up close and it was only then that he noticed her mouth was slightly open.

“…Alastair…” her voice is barely more than a whisper, the word is hardly a breath, but it’s all Castiel needs. He tilts his head to indicate that he heard her and that he understands.

“Thank you.” He whispers in return, squeezing her hand softly. “I’ll be right outside.”

He stands up, wordlessly walking out of the room and listening to the door click slightly behind him. Uriel is leaning against the wall, casually scanning the corridor. He stands more to attention when he sees Castiel, largely because Castiel knows he’s expecting new orders. Or at least he knows that it’s probably not good for him to be caught lounging on the job by his employer. It’s a good thing that Castiel is much more relaxed than some of his brothers.

“Uriel, we have a name: Alastair.”

“Yes sir.” Uriel nods curtly and pulls out his phone, “I’ll make some enquiries.”

“Outside if possible, we don’t need people prying.”

Uriel says nothing but fastens up his jacket and disappears off down the corridor, his phone already at his ear. Castiel cracks his knuckles again, the overwhelming craving for a cigarette lurking under his skin again. He pulls out his own phone, and takes a deep breath before dialling Gabriel’s number.

“Cassie?” his brother’s voice is on the end of the line instantaneously, “What’s going on? Tell me you have a name so I can wreak some justice on this dickbag!”

“Actual justice or family justice?” Castiel chuckles,

“Yeah like I’m gonna trust the police with this baby bro! C’mon Cassie, you wouldn’t have called if you didn’t have something for me.” There’s a hint of desperation there, Castiel realises, Gabriel really does care.

“I just got one word. I’m not sure if it’s a first or last name: Alastair?”

“Alastair?”

Castiel makes an affirmative noise and then jumps six inches when his brother starts shrieking into his ear. Gabriel starts ranting and raving, the anger sizzling down the phone and Castiel is extremely surprised nobody can hear the torrent of expletives pouring through the speaker.

“My fucking God, Cassie!” Gabriel eventually breathes, it’s the first words the Castiel can make any sense of. “That man is the biggest fucking bag of dicks ever. He’s a fucking sadistic bastard and he knows he’s been fucking banned from my ever seeing my girls! What the fuck does he think he’s playing at?” And he’s off again. Castiel is pretty sure he can hear things breaking, he doesn’t think he’s ever seen Gabe this angry before. In the background he can hear the soft voice of a woman and Gabriel seems to break off for a second and Castiel can hear them talking.

“Cassie? You still there?”

“Yes. Have you calmed down now?”

“Fuck no, but that doesn’t matter. Anyway, I know which sadistic fuckface did this. Who’s working with you this evening? I’ll have Kali send all the details through to them.”

“Uriel.”

“Excellent. Just the man for the job. Have him call me and we’ll make plans, oooh and get him to call his cousin too!” There’s a note of dark glee in his brother’s voice now. It would frighten Castiel if he wasn’t already used to it.

“I will do.”

“And Cassie?”

“Please don’t call me that.”

“It’s a term of endearment brother. Anyway,” there’s a serious note his voice now, “sort all the paperwork, pay all the bills and get Anna in to see Pamela as soon as possible. She can have as long as she needs off and I want you to organise some money for her – strictly off the books – until she gets back on her feet. I’ll see if Balthazar will give her a job at the bar, I think her escort days are over.”

“I think that’s best. Don’t worry, I’ll sort everything.”

“Thanks little bro.”

There’s a click and the line goes dead. Castiel shoots off a quick text to Uriel to call his brother and his cousin before he tucks it back into his pocket. He wonders how far it is to the nearest coffee machine. He feels dead on his feet right now. There’s a little row of chairs against the far wall and he settles into them to wait, staring absent-mindedly at the clock on the wall.

xxx

It’s forty minutes before anybody comes out of Anna’s room. Castiel has done nothing but drink a disgusting, half cold, cup of coffee and stare into space. Uriel returned and then disappeared again, relaying the instructions given to him by Gabriel and asking Castiel’s permission to leave.

When the door finally clicks open, it’s Doctor Winchester who exits. He notices Castiel still waiting but doesn’t say anything, in fact it almost seems like he attempts to head off in the opposite direction until Castiel clears his throat and stands up to speak to him.

“Can I help you Mr Collins?” his voice is cool.

“Yes. How is Miss Milton? Are you able to tell me the extent of her injuries and what treatment you are recommending?” He’s probably a little rude, but he’s tired and that usually means he’s inclined to be snappish.

“I’m sorry,” although Dean is _clearly_ _not_ , “just who do you think you are? I have no idea who you are or why you’re here or why you brought a damn bodyguard with you?! I don’t have to tell you anything.”

Castiel can feel him temper flaring. Right now doctor-patient confidentiality can kiss his ass, as Balthazar would say.

“Look, _Doctor Winchester,_ I am a very concerned friend and I’m also the one who will be arranging for all of her medical treatment. So, I am asking you very kindly to answer my questions.”

“Go to hell.” Snaps Dean. “I don’t care whether you’re paying or not. That girl has been through some seriously traumatic shit today and for all I know, you could be involved. So, I’m asking you kindly to get the hell out of my hospital or get a lawyer, because I’m not telling you jack-shit without proof that you’re here to help her.”

Castiel feels his eyes flare and takes a deep breath to try and calm himself. If this man had any idea who he was talking to, he wouldn’t dare speak to him this way. Who the hell does this Dean Winchester think he is anyway?

Castiel watches Dean stalk away down the corridor and he’s pretty sure he hears him mutter, “arrogant jackass” under his breath. Funny, thinks Castiel, I could say the same about you.

xxx

Castiel’s evening goes from bad to worse when the police turn up as he’s about the leave. Granted it’s just one detective. And it’s one he knows, or at least, he knows is on the family payroll. Still it’s a pain the ass to have to answer Esper’s questions, as he gives half-lies about being a concerned friend coming to the rescue. Thank God the alert app sends a text that looks like a message from Anna to his duplicate phone, should the police ever get involved. And he can give them the name Collins. Technically it is one of the names he uses and it’s got all the necessary details attached. Not that Esper will need to do much with it. In fact, Castiel wonders whether the report will actually get filed at all. He can’t decide whether that bothers him or not.

It’s nearly 3am by the time he manages to extricate himself from the hospital and all he wants to do now is sleep. His anger has worn itself out to be replaced by exhaustion. He lights up a cigarette on the curb as he waits for the car to collect him and smokes half of it before he realises he shouldn’t be smoking it at all, swearing darkly under his breath as he stubs it out under his feet. There's a light dusting of snow on the ground now and he pulls his trench coat around him tighter, shivering a little from the cold.

The black Mercedes pulls up in front of him and he recognises Inias as he hops out, straightening his suit to open the door for Castiel before he can say anything.

“Good evening Sir, I apologise for the delay.”

Castiel nods at him and slides into the warm interior of the vehicle. He may sometimes despise the fact the Michael insists on having them driven round but sometimes he will, quietly, admit that it does make it easier.

“Anywhere in particular Sir?”

“Yes, just home please Inias.”

Castiel sinks back into the soft leather seat, taking a deep breath and feeling his eyes fluttering closed. He doesn’t even notice the drive and he’s barely cognitive when he arrives at the apartment, simply pulling of his clothes and shoes as soon as the door locks behind him, collapsing onto his bed in just his t-shirt and boxers.

The last thing that crosses his mind, before sleep utterly claims him, is an arrogant smile and a pair of smouldering eyes.  

Xxx

Dean is fuming.

He stalks up and down the hospital corridors, snapping irritably at everyone until he gets an earful from Missouri Mosley and retreats to the on-call room to seethe.

Who the fuck did that Collins guy think he was? Demanding all Anna’s details and wanting to know everything like he _actually_ _cared._ Jack shit did he!

Dean’s seen enough beaten and bloodied women to last him a life time working in this ER and his heart sinks a little with every-one he’s assigned. All he can do is try to help them. Which is what he promised Anna. And it was the reason he kicked that Collins douchebag as far away from her as possible.

He knows a bad situation when he sees one and something was definitely off when we walked into that room. Besides, who the fuck brings a damn bodyguard into the hospital with them? Criminals and rich assholes who think they are above the law – that’s who! Especially if they’re just ‘visiting a friend’? Visiting a friend my ass! Thank fuck someone had called the police, even though the detective who turned up looked as useless as they come.

He wishes he’d called Sam.

Dean stews quietly for an hour on the bottom bunk, not bothering to try and get any sleep. He can rely on coffee to get him through. Although he may regret that in another 29 hours when he comes off this ridiculous 48-hour shift. His pager beeps and he groans as he pulls himself into a sitting position.

Ahhh fuck it. He’ll sleep later.

In fact, when he slopes back to the bunk, 2 hours later, that’s the first thing he tries to do. He kicks off his shoes and crashes into the lumpy mattress. Why the hell is he wearing his suit today? Scrubs would be way more comfortable right now. He thinks there is a pair in his locker but he can’t be asked to go and fetch them right now, he’ll grab them later.

He closes his eyes to let sleep pull him in this time. But all he gets instead is a flash of a tan trench coat, fuzzy, sharp cheekbones and dark, tousled hair.

Goddammit!

Why is this man getting so under his skin? He growls in frustration and after half an hour, gives up on sleep and resumes stalking up and down the corridors, checking in on his patients and avoiding the nurse’s station at all possible costs – he doesn’t want another ear bashing.

His watch reads 4.59am. Excellent. That means he can have some form breakfast and as much coffee as physically possible before he heads down to the ER to greet the Saturday morning influx of people who think they are actually dying instead of just stupidly hungover.

Anything to take his mind off Mr Collins.


	2. Pastries for Cigarettes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Technically this is two days early but I'm happy with it and I hope you are too. 
> 
> A/N: Please note this chapter has mentions of assault/sexual assault and rape but there are no explicit details, except a list of injuries.

“No Ma’am I am pretty sure you don’t have severe dengue fever,” Dean sighed, running his hand through his hair and cursing whoever let these people have access to the internet.

“Yes Doctor, but Google said…” the woman persevered,

“Ma’am, I have done many years of medical training so I think I know a damn sight more than Google and I can tell you now that all you have is a mild virus.” He snapped. He knew he shouldn’t but his patience was wearing thin. Very fucking thin. He was trained to deal with _actual_ sick people not these fucking idiots.

He finished dealing with her as soon as possible and moved on to his next patient, a young man who was incredibly pale and looked like he was about to pass out, his hand wrapped in a bloody bandage. At least he looked like he actually needed to be here.

The morning dragged past and by the lunchtime, Dean was both exhausted and irritated. Still only, what another 18 hours, give or take, and he could go home and crash. He grabbed a tray of food from the canteen, thanking every power above and below that there are burgers and fries and pie on the menu because he doesn’t know how he could get through today without them.

He almost drops the tray onto the table and flops into the seat opposite Benny, who chuckles softly at the sight of him.

“Long day Brother?”

Dean groans and tips his head back, scrunching his face and running his hands over his skin, massaging his eyes.

“Sometimes, I hate people. They’re all fucking idiots.” He swigs the tall cup of cafeteria coffee and shudders at the appalling taste. Benny laughs again as he pulls his tray towards him.

“That’s why I prefer the dead, they’re far less argumentative.”

“Yeah, yeah. Bite me!” Dean argues, grabbing a handful of fries, sticking his tongue out at the forensic pathologist before shoving them into his mouth.

“Trouble in paradise?”

“Nah Jo, just the usual.” Drawls Benny, shaking his head slightly.

“Ahhh,” Jo chuckles, stealing a fry off Dean’s plate as she plants herself in the chair next to him. He tries to give her a death glare but he can’t be asked, instead he makes to stab with a fork instead but he’s too slow and he’s only joking anyway. They’ve been doing this since they were kids. “What disease has Doctor Google diagnosed today? Gangrene? Scarlet Fever? Botulism?”

“Dengue fever, to a woman I don’t think has ever set foot outside the state!”

Jo nods, in a gesture of almost sympathy before adding, “should’ve been a surgeon Dean, people don’t argue with you when you’ve got a scalpel.”  

“Fuck both of you!”

xxx

Dean was much happier doing his rounds after lunch. It’s not that he truly hates people, he just hates stupid, timewasting people. He actually likes dealing with his patients and it’s nice to see some of them getting on much better, like little old Mrs Morgenstern who might actually get to go home in a couple of days after spending nearly three weeks here.

“You seem happier this afternoon,” notes Missouri as he collects a couple of charts, checking over some test results.

“There was pie, Missouri! Pie makes everything better!”

“I’ll remember that next time you’re being a pain in my ass.”

“You know you love me.” He winks and gives her his most charming and winning smile, the one he usually gives women to convince them to come home with him. It’s got a pretty high success rate too.

“Save it for those poor girls.” Missouri adds dryly, rolling her eyes at him.

Dean laughs and picks up Anna’s chart, carefully scanning the results of some of the latest tests he ordered as well as the details from the scans he managed to get her. It had taken a little begging to get something done at the weekend and he was pretty sure he now owed Garth massively but it had worked.

“How’s Anna Milton doing?” he asks softly, as he continues reacquainting himself with her horrific list of internal and external injuries. Jesus Christ if he ever met the person responsible for this he was definitely not going to be held accountable for his actions.

“Still pretty quiet,” Missouri sighed, “not surprising though. But she’s got another visitor.”

“That Collins guy again?”

“No, a woman.”

“Good.” Dean snaps. He can’t help but get irritated at the thought of _Mr Collins_ back in his hospital. In his stupid trench coat and stupid, crooked tie. With his stupid peach fuzz, stupid sexy voice and stupid messed up hair that makes him look like he’s just been fucked and is practically begging Dean to run his fingers through it. Asshole.

Missouri shoots him a funny look and mutters to herself, shaking her head at Dean’s apparently stupid behaviour. C’mon he knows Missouri didn’t like him either. He stalks down the corridor and opens Anna’s door, sticking his head round it and smiling, in an attempt to be a little more approachable.

“Doctor calling.” As he steps into the room he notices Anna’s visitor, who’s sat facing the door and his eyes go wide. This woman… this woman… well she’s fucking gorgeous to start with. Beautiful dark eyes, full lips and glowing, dark skin and when she stands up to greet him he can’t help but notice there’s a stunning figure to go with it, accentuated by her clothing which seems to cling to her in exactly the right way. There’s the barest hint of a smile on her lips and she seems to be looking him up and down in an apprising sort of way

“Doctor Winchester,” he says, stretching out his hand to shake hers, “but please, call me Dean.”

Her grasp is firm, her skin soft and smooth and she nods her head,

“Kali. Nice to meet you Doctor. I’ve heard so many good things. Anna says you’ve been taking such good care of her.”

“Well we’re trying.”

“I know you’re doing your best and I’m so grateful.” Her smile is charming, winning even, with a hint of something else there… admiration? Desire? Whatever it is, it’s making him feel warm as she gazes at him with those lovely, dark eyes. Why is he blushing? Good God Winchester you’re not in grade school, pull it together!

He turns back to Anna, smiling at her softly, trying to change the conversation back to his patient. It’s hard to smile though. Her bruises have blossomed now and half her face is purple and yellow and swollen. He tries hard not to wince.

“How’re you feeling today?” he asks gently. Anna nods a little and looks at Kali, who’s resumed her seat next to the bed, crossing her legs to reveal stunning long legs that slide up under her pencil skirt and… are those… is she wearing stockings?

No. Just No. Get your mind out of the gutter Winchester.

Man, he needs to get laid.

He shakes his head a little and resumes looking at Anna instead of her visitor.

“A little….” Anna’s voice is barely above a whisper, “my ribs are a little sore though.”

“There’s several fractures there,” Dean answers, remembering her x-rays, “but unfortunately it’s nearly impossible to do anything about them. I’ll look at upping your pain medication.” He pauses, taking a tiny deep breath, this was the part he wasn’t so keen on. “Did the gynaecologist come and take some swabs and go through everything with you? I know they took some when you came in but I believe they wanted a couple of more, just in case.”

Anna nods again, looking down at the bed. Dean notices Kali squeezing her hand gently. At least Anna has good friends. She’s gonna need them after this shitstorm.

“Good, we’re gonna send them to the police for processing.”

He changes the topic slightly, just running over a few of her other injuries and gently discussing her plans for when she’s released. Anna doesn’t say much but Kali seems to be on top of everything and fills in all the gaps.

When he finally leaves, she follows him out and beckons him to a quiet corner, asking if she can have a word. Dean agrees. He can’t think of a reason not to.

“I was wondering, Doctor Winchester, if you’d be able to tell me about Anna’s injuries or whether I can get a copy?” her voice is soft and warm as she looks up at him through long lashes. “Please? I know it’s unorthodox but Anna is _such_ a good friend and I desperately want to know what she’s going through.” She bats them softly, staring at him and stepping forward a little until she’s almost a little too close.

That’s it. He’s gone. Winchester down. 

“Yeah, of course…” he stammers.

She steps back, smiling. “Thank you.”

Ten minutes later, Kali leaves with a full list of Anna’s injuries and treatments. She’s walking away, heels clacking on the floor when Dean comes to his senses.

“Can I maybe take you out for a drink sometime?” he asks, having chased her down the corridor.

She looks him up and down, tilting her head and smirking slightly.

“I don’t think my boyfriend would like that, he’s not interested in sharing.” And with that she’s gone, slipping through the door and out of sight. Dean tries to collect his thoughts, working out what the fuck just happened but all her can hear in the giant claxon going off in his head that screams:

_Holy Shit Winchester, you just got played._

Dammit!

xxx

From somewhere far away, Castiel can hear his phone ringing. He does not want his phone to be ringing. In fact, whoever was making it ring was going to suffer for disturbing him.

He groaned and attempted to extricate himself from the cocoon of blankets he’s managed to roll himself into during the night. When he finally gets hold of his phone, he can see Gabriel’s name flashing across the screen while the obnoxious ringtone that his brother had set for himself blares in his face.

“What the fuck do you want?” he mutters darkly down the line.

“Cassie! Good morning!” Why the hell does his brother always sound so ridiculously cheerful? “Time to get up baby bro, I need you to come over.”

“Why?” snarled Castiel, trying to read the clock next to his bed. 10.32am. Too early to be dealing with anything. Let along his bouncing bastard of a brother.  

“Because I need to discuss something with you. Something important.”

“Talk to Balthazar,” Castiel snapped, “that’s who you usually bother.”

“But he’ll be asleep, he was at the bar till at least three this morning and you know he usually sleeps until noon.” Gabriel’s voice is bordering on whiney.

“I was asleep you ass, I didn’t get back from the hospital until nearly four.”

“Exactly, you need to come and fill me in on all the details.”

“Gabriel-”

“No excuses Cassie, I’ll send a car. See you soon!” and with that his brother is gone, having simply charged into Castiel’s morning and done what Gabriel does best; make things about him. Castiel grumbles darkly as he pulls himself out of bed and stumbles towards the shower, dumping his t-shirt and boxers en-route.

The heat of the water eases his tired muscles a little, as does the pounding water pressure. And for a while he simply stands there, letting the water pour over him as he stares into space, trying to become some sort of awake. But all it does is make him sleepier.

When he finally makes it into his kitchen, he makes himself the strongest coffee possible and by the time he’s downed two of them he’s starting to feel more alert. His stomach rumbles but he knows he doesn’t have time to make anything resembling a proper breakfast. He’ll have to ask the driver to stop somewhere so he can grab something on his way to Gabriel’s. Pastries maybe. He’s craving something sugary right now. It’s probably some form of fucked up replacement for the cigarettes. He’ll just get heart disease instead of lung cancer.

His mind wanders slightly as he potters around, determined to make Gabriel wait as long as possible, just to annoy him. Castiel wonders exactly what Gabriel wants this early on a Saturday morning, usually his brother holes himself up with his girlfriend for the day before descending on Balthazar for the evening. Gabriel and Balthazar are only eighteen months apart and absolutely thick as thieves, constantly teasing Castiel in what they insist is a loving manner. It’s been that way for as long as he can remember. But at the same time, they’ve always been very protective of him, especially since their father died when Castiel was twelve. Michael had stepped in as their legal guardian, considering he was twenty-seven at the time and already well established, both in the family business and outside it.

Castiel remembers Gabriel sneaking him sweets and chocolate to cheer him up and lying him with and Balthazar on his bed, trying to forget exactly what being a Novak meant. Castiel had known about it, even then, and Gabriel has always cared too much.

It’s probably about Anna.

Castiel wonders whether Gabriel is going to want him to go back to the hospital and try and find out more about her injuries. It doesn’t necessarily matter, he’s signed all the paperwork and arranged for Anna to see Pamela, a therapist and counsellor, as soon as possible. All paid for by the family of course.

He’s not sure whether he wants to go back, especially if it would mean running into Dean again. He can’t work out why the man gets under his skin. Sure, he’s attractive. There’s absolutely no denying that. But there’s something else there which Castiel can’t put his finger on and it’s irritating him. And it’s not just that he was an arrogant jackass, although that probably comes with the territory when you look like that. Not that it matters, he highly doubts that Dean would be interested. Even though a small part of Castiel’s brain would _love_ to know exactly what is under that delightfully tight fitting pair of pants he was wearing...

The buzzer sounds before his brain can wander any further and the doorman informs him that his car is here. Castiel sighs and grabs his jacket from last night, partly sad and partly grateful for the distraction. Before he leaves, he pulls the pack of cigarettes out of the pocket and leaves them on the coffee table. That might just be one temptation too many.

xxx

Gabriel’s flat is only a fifteen-minute drive, although it takes longer today by the time Castiel has stopped for breakfast. He picks up some extra sweet treats for his brother, whose love of all things sugary expands far beyond that of most normal human beings.

“Shall I wait, sir?” the driver asks, as he opens to door for Castiel when they reach Gabriel’s building.

“No, it’s fine, thank you.” Castiel nods. He can’t remember the driver’s name for the life of him, which is annoying because he tries desperately to know all of them. It just seems polite.

He makes his way up to Gabriel’s penthouse. His brother always had expensive tastes. He still doesn’t know why Gabriel needs five bedrooms though. Castiel does know it took Gabriel years to acquire though, and that his brother loves adores it, even if it is a little flashy for Castiel. Still he can’t deny that it is absolutely stunning, with huge glass windows and a beautiful view over the city.

“Cassie!” his brother exclaims, pulling him into a tight hug, ignoring Castiel’s huffs and death glare.

“Don’t call me that.” Castiel mutters, for what must be the thousandth time.

“Cheer up! I have exciting news—oooh pastries! For me?” Gabriel is immediately distracted by the bag in Castiel’s hand, pulling it open and inhaling the sweet smell. “This is why you’re my favourite.”

“I’ll tell Balthazar that.”

“He knows. He still makes me pay for my drinks.” Gabriel rolls his eyes at this, as if somehow brotherly relations means he shouldn’t pay his bill.

“That’s because you drink too much. And you have expensive tastes.”

“No to the first, but I can’t deny the second.” Shouts Gabriel, disappearing into the kitchen as Castiel makes himself comfortable on one of the expansive leather couches in the living space. “Do you want coffee?”

“Yes. Don’t ask stupid questions.”

“So sassy today Cassie. Who got your panties all ruffled?”

Castiel decides this doesn’t dignify a response and instead sighs deeply, gazing out of the windows at the city. It’s never quite as pretty during the day. At night, the lights of the city create the most beautiful picture, one that’s forever changing. He’d love to take a picture of it. Castiel is still lost in thought when Gabriel reappears with coffee for both of them and confectioners’ sugar around his mouth – the pastries have clearly been appreciated.

Gabriel settles himself opposite Castiel and they make easy conversation for a while, nothing serious, just small talk.

“Gabriel, why am I here?” Castiel asks eventually, fixing his brother with a serious look. Gabriel shifts in his seat.

“Because I have sent Kali on a secret mission and thought you’d like to be involved!”

“Secret mission? Are you twelve Gabriel?” snorts Castiel, rolling his eyes at his older brother, taking another sip of the strong coffee Gabriel supplied him with. The caffeine is kicking in now and he feels considerably more alert.

“But secret missions are cool, Cassie.” Gabriel wheedles. “I have sent her to infiltrate the hospital, see Anna and seduce the darling doctor involved to get me all the details. I’m nosey and they won’t tell me over the phone. Not even as her lawyer.” Gabriel rolls his eyes and sighs, pulling a lollipop out of the bowl of candy he keeps on the centre of the coffee table.

Castiel laughs, he can’t help it. Trust his brother to play the lawyer card. He pulls his own piece of candy from the bowl. It’s a poor replacement for the nicotine but it’ll have to do.

“You laugh but you’d be surprised by how often it works!” Gabriel huffs, “Now, give me all the details from last night. I want to know _everything_.” His voice is suddenly more serious.

“Are you sure?” Castiel hesitates, Gabriel is no stranger to violence. He’s a Novak after all: violence and his family go in hand in hand. Along with drugs, prostitutes and alcohol. Gabriel shoots him a no nonsense look and Castiel begins. He tells Gabriel everything, from when he first got the alarm from Anna to the moment he left the hospital, not sparing him any of the details. Except perhaps how attractive Dean was. Although he does mention that he was an asshole.  Gabriel listens quietly, asking the occasional question to clarify something.

“So,” Gabriel asks, once Castiel has finished, “this Winchester, he’s hot right? He’s gotta be, I haven’t seen you this rattled for ages!”

“Fuck you.”

“No, Cassie. Fuck him.”

“I will shoot you.”

Gabriel laughs again, knowing it’s an empty threat. Castiel still doesn’t understand how both Gabriel and Balthazar have this innate ability to pin point his weak spots. They’ve always been able to do it and it drives him crazy.

“You really to get laid little bro. C’mon you’re Castiel fuckin’ Novak. People should be begging to get in your pants. I can always find you someone if you want.”  

Castiel shook his head. He doesn’t want any of Gabriel’s escorts or Lucifer’s whores. But he’s lucky in some respects. None of his brothers really care about his sexuality. He remembers agonising over telling Gabriel and Balthazar that he was pansexual, trying desperately to find the right moment before he’d accidently blurted it out one night when they’d gotten him knee walking drunk. They’d been silent for a second and Castiel thought he’d blown it when Balthazar had simply turned to Gabriel and said, totally seriously, “You owe me fifty bucks.”. Gabriel had howled and Castiel had been stupefied. Apparently, they weren’t below betting on their youngest brother’s sexuality.

After that they’d given him a hug, bought him more tequila and expanded their attempts to get him laid to include anyone they thought was vaguely attractive.

Thankfully, the opening of the front door saves Castiel from further interrogation by his belligerent older brother. He looked round to see Kali kicking off her heels and he notes the smile that spreads across Gabriel’s face. How his brother managed to charm her is beyond reason.

“Hey baby,” Gabriel calls, practically leaping off the sofa towards his girlfriend. “How did it go?”

“How do you think?” Kali smirks and rolls her eyes, pushing Gabriel away playfully. “Did you seriously doubt me?”

“No.” Gabriel laughs. He always seems more natural around her, thinks Cas idly, watching the pair of them argue playfully back and forth. It’s nice for once, to see his brother happier.

“Which poor sap did you have to charm today?” Gabriel chuckles again.

“Dean Winchester,” Kali says, matter of factly as she settles on the sofa opposite Castiel. “I’ve not seen him before.”

Gabriel shrugs, “Me neither, Cassie says he’s a bit of a jackass though.”

“Maybe,” Kali shrugs, “but he seems like he knows what he’s doing and he’s easy on the eyes.” She paused, casually taking a sip from the coffee Gabriel has procured for her, “Anna likes him.”  

“Was it difficult?” Gabriel asks, his voice light and free, as if it’s a game.

“Oh please,” Kali laughs, “it’s the same with all men. I can flutter my eyelashes, give them a smile and they fall hook, line and sinker. It worked on you.”

“It didn’t need to,” Gabriel says, his voice soft for a second and he leans over the back of the sofa to press a soft kiss onto her temple, “I was already gone from the moment I saw you.”

It’s strange to see Gabriel like this, Castiel muses. He’s usually so full of energy. Bouncing and bubbling all over the place. Part of it is his personality but part of it is just a wall he puts up, a defence so that nobody can see what’s underneath. They all have it. In this family, you have to. When he’s like this though, you know he’s serious. Kali is the only person Castiel has ever seen who has managed to elicit this behaviour from his brother.

She’d started as one of his girls but Gabriel had wanted an assistant, someone who was discreet but good with the girls, the clients and the numbers. Most importantly they had to be trustworthy. Kali had fit the bill perfectly and within a month, she had Gabriel wrapped round her finger. Castiel liked her, she was fiery but also gentle with a funny, soft side that occasionally he got to see. But she was fierce and firm and took no shit from anybody. She was also able to keep Gabriel firmly in line when necessary.

Castiel realised he’d let his mind wander and only came back to the conversation when he heard Kali say,

“3 broken ribs but luckily they’re mostly cracked instead of actually broken, her shoulder was dislocated from being wrenched round and there might be some muscle and ligament damage. There’s a lot of bruising and swelling so it’s a little difficult to tell at the moment but her nose was definitely broken and there’s a small fracture at the back of her skull but not her jaw or eye-sockets as far as they can see.” She paused, obviously completing the list of injuries. He realised he’d missed most of the conversation but what he’d heard had been enough. Alistair had used Anna as a punching bag. The colour had drained from Gabriel’s face and he was squeezing the edge of the couch so hard his knuckles were nearly white.

“And, the gynaecologist thinks there’s some external and internal damage as well. There’s not much they can do except give her some antibiotics, run some tests and let it heal.”

“Wait…” Gabriel’s voice is slightly shakey. “Are you telling me this dickhead not only used one of my girls as a punching bag but he raped her as well.”

“Yes.” Kali’s voice is steady and she puts a hand out to touch Gabriel’s. Castiel has never seen his brother so angry.

“The hospital said the police are currently investigating. They’ve taken Anna’s clothes, the DNA evidence, her statement as well as Castiel’s and Doctor Winchester’s-”

“Fuck the police.” Snapped Gabriel. “They won’t do a fucking thing. This ass-clown is too rich and powerful, they’ll never be able to touch him.” He turns to Castiel, “you didn’t tell me!”

“I didn’t know.” Snarled Castiel. He doesn’t like it any more than his brother. Yes, they may be criminals but they have standards dammit. Well as least he and Gabriel do. Even if their moral compass is more shades of grey than black or white, there are limits. And beating innocents and rape is so far across the line it’s a dot in the distance.

“I'm going to kill him.” His brother muttered, darkly.

And Castiel knows he isn’t joking.

xxx

He stays for the rest of the day.

Kali orders of them takeout and he and Gabriel plan a little, although neither of them have the brain for this sort of thing. Gabriel deals with the law, and getting around it. Castiel deals with numbers. They might be able to kill someone but they’re not trained killers – there’s a distinct difference. Michael always viewed it as dirty work to be done by someone else. Apparently, their father was the same.

Uriel is summoned from the reconnaissance he and his cousin, Raphael, have been doing since last night. He gives his report to Gabriel while Raphael stands silently. Castiel had assumed that Gabriel had sent them out last night with the hit orders but he hadn’t. He’d wanted a full list of Anna’s injuries before he continued. Sometimes, Gabriel has a very eye-for-an-eye sense of justice.

In the end, Gabriel dismisses them. “Kill him. No mess. No body. As much as I want the world to know what he’s done, I can’t have it leading back to us, but please remind him exactly why you are doing this.” He hands Uriel a piece of paper, “here is a list of Miss Milton’s extensive injuries. If you would to inflict anything similar you are very welcome to. Although I wouldn’t go so far as he did. I don’t know what diseases that fucker is carrying. But please tell him Gabriel Novak sends his regards.”

The pair of them leave. They will call in later when it is done. Castiel knows they will be thorough and leave no trace. It will be as if Alistair simply disappeared. When it comes to hitmen, the Novak family hired the best.

Castiel knows he should feel something about this. But he doesn’t. It’s just business. The blood on his hands is so thick these days he could wash them for days and they’d still be dripping.


	3. Red Smoke and Whiskey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone is having a good week so far! A very random side note but this week Spotify suggested Angel by Theory of a Deadman to me and I'm pretty convinced it is the most Destiely song ever... 
> 
> A/N: Not too much to watch here except for references to prostitution. I will update the tags but there also references to Cas/Meg but it's not explicit.

Some people, thought Castiel, should not be allowed anywhere near liquor. They should not be allowed anywhere near numbers either.

It was early evening on Friday, a week after Anna had been admitted to hospital, and Castiel found himself elbow deep in the cellar of one of Lucifer’s clubs, _Eden_ , trying to do some sort of stock count. Well at least, he was trying to check all of the numbers while various members of staff ran around doing his bidding. At the moment, he was being assisted by a small, blonde girl who seemed absolutely petrified of Castiel and jumped every time he spoke to her.

“This inventory says there should be six cases of the Brut Reserve but I only see four, where are the other two?”

“I don’t know sir. Mr Crowley usually manages everything.”

Castiel rubbed his eyes wearily. Of course it was Crowley. Lucifer’s right hand man. He ran all of his brother’s shady businesses, although technically he was just the manager of Eden, but he seemed to have his fingers in pies all over the Novak empire. He should probably mention it to Michael. He was due to see him on Monday and Castiel added it to the mental list of things to mention to his older brother.

“Where is Crowley?” Castiel realised there was an icy edge to his tone and the poor girl who was helping him, seemed to freeze up, her mouth opening without any sound coming out. “Just go and find him!” he snapped, sending her scurrying out the cellar at speed. He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. He hated doing these quarterly checks, but Michael insisted, he wanted to know everything that happened in every business. Everything legitimate had to be accounted for, if not it was harder to hide the illegitimate business alongside it. Castiel still wasn’t sure why he had to spend his Friday night here of all places, but it was probably because Michael didn’t trust Lucifer. He didn’t really trust anyone.

Castiel flexed his arms and cracked his knuckles, surveying the dank room. It had been a long week and although the nicotine cravings were starting to ebb, they were steadily being replaced with a desire for whiskey and something with chiselled cheekbones and a slightly swaggering walk. He’d been to visit Anna a couple of times with Kali and although he’d not spoken to Dean, he’d seen him in the distance stalking up and down the hospital corridors. Once, he was pretty sure he’d caught Dean staring at him, mouth open slightly. Castiel had raised his eyebrows and smirked at him, watching the doctor flush slightly. That had definitely conjured up a whole new set of delightful mental images.

“Wow Clarence, who got your panties in a twist?” The sound caught him by surprise, but Castiel knew who the voice belonged to before he even turned around. Meg was lounging against the door frame, arms folder and one eyebrow raised, a casual smirk on her lips.

“Good evening Meg,” his tone was cutting and cold.

“Crowely’s not here yet,” she replied, “so don’t go bitching at my staff.”

“I apologise.” He wasn’t sure if he was really sorry, but Meg had a habit of putting him his place.

“Yeah, yeah. You’re not sorry.” She laughed, brushing her dark hair out of her face. “C’mon Clarence, let me get you a drink and you can bitch to me about Crowley until he arrives.”

Castiel laughed, grabbing his coat from where he’d dumped it earlier on one of the beer kegs. He followed Meg back up the stairs into the back rooms of the club, casually watching the sway of her hips as she climbed the stairs. A little knowing smile crossed his lips as he walked, remembering the couple of nights they’d spent together. It had been, fun. A wild form of stress release. Meg paused at the door to the bar, turning around and raising her eyebrows again when she noticed Castiel watching her.

“See something you like?”

Castiel chuckled, “maybe.”

“Well I’m here till two and after that,” she paused, looking Castiel up and down in a slightly predatory fashion, “well, you know how to find me. Maybe you could bring me a pizza?”

She shot him a wink before she swung the door open and Castiel followed her, chuckling, watching her duck behind the bar, casually chatting to a few of the other staff members as they set up for the evening. Maybe he would take Meg up on her offer. It had been a while and there was an itch under his skin that was very different from his cigarette craving. Maybe Meg could take his mind off his fantasies of Dean that were becoming a continual source of frustration to him.

He stood in the shadows at the end of the bar, sipping the drink that Meg had put in front of him and scanning his eyes around the club. This was no seedy back ally strip joint. Eden had class. It was incredibly tastefully decorated over its three floors, it had been one of Lucifer’s insistences and no expense had been spared. It was space and comfort and beauty – no gaudiness or tackiness in sight. It was a place of class, taste and reserve with high standards of service, utmost discretion and some of the most beautiful women you’d ever seen. Eden was paradise.

At least, that was the image it presented to the world. Castiel wondered whether some of the supposedly seedy joints were better to work for. He was pretty certain most of the people who ran them had better morals that his older brother and his manager.

Most of the girls here weren’t just a pretty face and lithe body, to be admired and ogled while you drowned your sorrows in some of the best, and most expensive, alcohol that money could buy. True, you could pay for a private lounge and maybe get a little more but in truth if you knew who to ask, then most of the girls were for sale. An hour, a night, a regular slot; if you had the money then you could do whatever the hell you wanted.

Eden had two golden rules: the women were beautiful and they belonged to Lucifer.

It was rumoured that his brother tried out every single girl when they started and from there he picked his favourites, The Devil’s Girls – the ones he would give money, gifts, better stage time to. If you were one of Lucifer’s girls then life suddenly became a hell of a lot better for you, especially because you didn’t suddenly find yourself sold off to anyone who wanted you. Castiel knew the first part was largely a rumour but he wouldn’t be surprised if there was a large portion of truth to it, especially as Lucifer seemed to have a never-ending parade of beautiful women at his beck and call.

“Don’t think too hard Clarence, you might hurt yourself!” Meg’s comment snapped him out of his thoughts. She was leaning on the other side of the bar, arms crossed and chest resting on her forearms – it wasn’t a bad view. Castiel had a slight suspicion that Meg did this with most customers to get more tips.

“You would know.” He shot back, draining the last of the whiskey and feeling the burn in his throat.

They chatted for a while as the bar began to fill up and the first of the girls began to take to the stage. Castiel watched them a little, but more out of boredom than interest. Crowley had still to make an appearance and Castiel wondered whether the man was avoiding him on purpose, it seemed like something the scot would do. He could leave it for now, go home and crash or go see Balthazar and bitch to him about their brother’s distinct lack of organisation. He toyed with staying here for the evening, getting drunk and taking Meg home but the club was becoming busier by the minute and he found the close environment and pounding music oppressive. If he wanted to see Meg later he could send a car for her.

Castiel stood up to leave, settling his tab and was making his way to the door when a voice behind him stopped him,

“Mr Novak.” He turned to see a man in a dark suit stood close to him, the politeness of his expression not reaching his eyes.

“Crowley.”

“I understand you were looking for me.”

“Yes, nearly two hours ago.” Castiel couldn’t quite keep the annoyance out his tone as he spoke, it seemed typical of the man to keep him waiting.

“My apologies. I was in a meeting with your brother, I believe he would like to see you.” The man paused to watch Castiel’s reaction. Castiel said nothing but nodded. “He’s one the first floor in his private room.”

Castiel rolled his eyes slightly - there go his evening plans. He made his way across the floor, winding his way past various chairs and booths, avoiding the scantily clad drinks girls carrying trays full of glasses. There was a set of stairs tucked away in the corner, with two huge bodyguards planted either side. They said nothing to Castiel as he made his way up the stairs to the second floor. This time of the evening it was relatively quiet, a few clients and girls and more security. He paced down the corridor, ignoring any noises he could hear from behind the closed doors, until he reached the door at the end. There was another man outside it, younger than most of them, in a dark suit with an earpiece. He looked like he was a member of some sort of presidential bodyguard.

“Good Evening Brady,” he said, pausing at the door. “I believe my brother is expecting me.”

“Good Evening Mr Novak,” Brady replied, nodding his head slightly as he reached for the door handle. Castiel stepped inside, hearing the door click behind it.

“Castiel, is that you?” came Lucifer’s voice, from the upstairs part of the suite.

“Yes, I believe you wanted to see me.” He shrugged off his trenchcoat and suit jacket, hanging them on the available rack and rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. Why his brother kept the room so warm was a mystery.   

“Good, I’m glad you’re hear. Make yourself comfortable.”

Castiel wandered over to the front of the room, to the large windows that looked out over the club. They were single-way glass so his brother could survey his empire without anyone watching him and they gave a good view of the large floor downstairs and a perfect view of the stage. There were several more of these rooms dotted on the floor above and alongside Lucifer’s suite, either side of Lucifer’s that sat centrally and therefore offering the best view. Castiel knew the club hired the rooms out like hospitality boxes in a stadium. Bring your friends, get drunk, watch the dancers, hire a few whores … it was some people’s perfect night and the amount of money they made off hiring the rooms out? It was almost obscene. But the rooms were never empty.

Castiel noted the bottom floor was packed out now and he could practically see Crowley rubbing his hands in glee. If that man liked anything more than Scottish whiskey and pretty girls, it was money. Novak money.

He settled himself into one of the soft dark armchairs, so he could see both the suite itself but also, if he wished, the stage. He could hear his brother moving around upstairs and at least one other person. Clearly Luc was taking advantage of his break between meetings. Nothing new there.

A few moments later, his brother appeared smiling at Castiel as he reached the bottom of the stairs.

“Castiel” he repeated, “it’s good to see you. Please sit.” And he gestured at the chair Castiel had removed himself from when he’d heard Lucifer coming down the stairs. “Can I get you a drink?”

“Thank you, a drink would be appreciated.” Castiel nodded, settling himself back down as Lucifer seated himself opposite him. His brother raised one hand to beckon someone.

“Lillith, my brother and I would like a drink. The Glenfiddich fifty single malt will do.”

A very pretty, blonde woman in a barely-there white dress, bought them two cut glasses, pouring two drinks from an exquisite green bottle that she set on the table. Once she’d finished, she passed Lucifer his drink and settled herself on the arm of the chair next to him, like some sort of expensive pet.

Castiel said nothing and refrained from rolling his eyes. Lucifer clearly had a new favourite. He wondered, idly, how long it would last as he watched his brother place a casual hand on the woman’s thigh, running his fingers across the exposed skin.

“I trust your checks went well? Nothing wrong?” There was an edge to his voice that Castiel couldn’t quite place. A challenge? Did Lucifer know about the missing bottles? Was it a set up to see how thorough he was? Or, was Lucifer threatening him to ignore it? Daring him to bring it up even? He was confused and it made him hesitate for a moment, considering how to proceed.

“Well your staff could be tidier,” he said, deciding honestly was the best policy. It’s what Michael paid him for. Besides he had no more reason than usual not to trust his brother. “But there are a few things missing, a couple of cases of Brut Reserve for example.” He said the last words carefully, watching Lucifer’s face intently, waiting to gage his reaction.

For a split-second something flickered across Lucifer’s face, but it was there and gone so quickly that Castiel wondered whether he’d imagined it. And then his brother did something completed unexpected… he threw his head back and laughed.

“Is that all?” he sounded genuinely amused. “Oh Castiel, you made it sound so serious!”

“But-” Castiel began, but Lucifer waved his concerns away.

“It’s a couple of cases, don’t worry about it.”

“But-”

“Seriously Castiel, just forget about it.” There was a warning edge to his voice that hadn’t been there before. Castiel opened his mouth to argue but closed it again. Lucifer smiled at him. He looked like wolf eyeing up his next meal and it sent shivers down his spine. No matter how close they were, when Lucifer looked like this it terrified Castiel. There was silence for a minute.

“I understand one of Gabriel’s girls has been hospitalised,” continued Lucifer, changing the subject.

“Yes, an unfortunate accident. But it has been resolved.” Castiel answered, his voice steady.

“Such a pity,” Lucifer took a sip of his drink, his hand still running up and down Lillith’s thigh, “Gabriel really should learn to take better care of his toys.”

“This is the first occasion this has happened.”

“True, true but we cannot allow standards to slip Castiel. If it happened once, who’s to say it won’t happen again?” he fixed Castiel with a dark smile, “we must not allow the name Novak to be sullied, must we?”

“I hardly feel that will happen brother.” Castiel swallowed, trying to keep his countenance still. He must not allow his brother to frighten him but he began to feel that he was twelve years old again. “Gabriel is not to blame for this.”

“Hmmmm,” Lucifer sipped his drink again, studying his little brother. “You are right, of course, Gabriel is not to blame. It is not his fault he has been handed this complex arm of the business with so little help from our dearest older brother. He was bound to make mistakes. I am ashamed I haven’t done more to help him really.” He paused again, “but then again, how else will he learn?”

“I believe Gabriel is more than capable.” Castiel challenged, gently.

“Do you? Well that’s comforting I suppose. You were always the most sensible of us, little brother. Perhaps the fault should fall with our beloved brother Michael instead? After all he is the one in charge. Every fault is his to bear.” Lucifer stared at him over the rim of his glass and beckoned Lillith to refill both their drinks. Castiel realised he had drained his without realising it.

“You really believe this is Michael’s fault?”

“Perhaps.” Lucifer’s voice was soft, casual almost. “Perhaps he is not as capable as we believe. After all, the numbers don’t lie and you yourself said things are going wrong. First Gabriel’s whores are attacked in broad daylight and now my supplies are unaccounted for… perhaps our brother is not as infallible as he might seem?”

Castiel’s head was spinning. What the fuck was Lucifer on about? Was he setting Michael up? But why? They were brothers, Novaks and Lucifer wasn’t exactly badly off. He was Michael’s most trusted advisor, his second in command. He was trying to think, trying to puzzle it all out but he couldn’t make his brain process everything. Lucifer was smiling at his again but the darkness in his face was gone, his smile brighter as he turned to look down on the club below him.

“Oh Castiel, you must watch this.” He gestured to the window. “My latest find, she and Lillith make quite the pair, I can assure you. Although,” he smiled at his brother fondly, “perhaps I could be persuaded to part with one of them if you would like. It would make a change for you. Meg really can’t be all that fun, I certainly got bored of her.” Lucifer stood up and placed a hand on Castiel’s shoulder, squeezing it before turning back to Lillith, “shall we have Ruby join us later my pet? Would you like that?”

“Yes, sir.”

Castiel felt an uncomfortable surge in his gut, and it wasn’t just at his brother’s behaviour. He wanted to leave right now. But his eyes were drawn to stage and the red smoke curling across it. He could hear the music again, it was deeper, darker, almost hypnotic. The smoke curled languidly across the room and into the packed crowd. He could see every eye gazing upwards; watching, waiting.

Then there was a woman, dressed in red, in the middle of the stage. Dark hair rippled down her back as she swayed. Her movements were enchanting and deeply erotic. She held the entire crowd in her grasp. It was like a cult. And she was their dark deity.

Castiel could feel his brother stood next to him, see him out of the corner of his eye stroking Lillith’s body, hear him whispering deep desires in her ear. Her head was thrown back, mouth open and eyes closed.

The atmosphere was too close, too cloying. Castiel felt like he was trapped, drowning in the heat and the tension as Ruby’s movements drew the audience in. It was like watching a snake hypnotise a mouse and at any second she would strike – utterly destroying him.

He had to get out. He leapt from his chair, grabbed his jacket coat and ran.

As the door banged shut he could hear Lucifer’s laughter ringing in his ears.

xxx

Castiel didn’t flee. Novak’s don’t flee. However, he did leave rather more hurriedly than he had originally intended, pushing through the crowd downstairs and making his way out of the doors and into the crisp November night.

The cold air stung, nipping at his exposed face and chapped lips but the pain was almost reassuring. It bought him back to earth. The momentary fear he had felt disappearing into the night air like a cloud of smoke. He hailed a cab, sliding into the backseat and sharply giving the driver the name and location of Balthazar’s bar.

Lucifer’s comments about Michael had unnerved him and he couldn’t work out why. His brother was always elusive, scheming and planning but at the same time he had continuously appeared as a caring figure in Castiel’s life. Luc has always, always been the voice of reason with Michael, convincing the eldest Novak to let Castiel have a little more freedom. Even if it was just attending a summer program in California and allowing him to move into university accommodation instead of staying at home. And yet…

Castiel shook his head. His brother was plotting something, there was no doubt about that, and Castiel could feel the Novak noose tightening around his neck. Any day now it was going to choke him and already he felt like he was struggling for air.

He tried to shake the feelings off by staring out the window at the passing city, the lights flashing by quickly but Lucifer’s words kept echoing round and round in his head. He wanted a distraction, any distraction. By the time the cab pulled up outside _The Garden_ , Castiel was confused and frustrated. He threw some money at the driver before making his way inside the art-deco building.

He found a seat at the far end of the bar, ordering a double of whatever was closest to hand.

“Where’s my brother?” he asked the girl behind the bar when she set the glass down in front of him.

“Mr Novak is just with some guests, but I’ll let him know you’ve arrived.” She appeared to know who he was even though he didn’t recognise her face. He shrugged it off and took a sip of the dark liquid. It burned his tongue and his lips. He held the liquor in his mouth for a second, revelling in the warmth before it slipped down his throat, leaving a heated trail on his tongue. He sat, lost in thought, until a loud voice directly behind him made him jump out of his skin.

“Cassie!” Balthazar’s voice was elated, as he clapped his brother on the shoulder and slid into the seat next to him. “I wasn’t expecting you this evening.”

Castiel paused, giving his brother a half smile and his rolled the glass in his fingers, “I’ve been at Eden.”

“Did the sight of naked girls frighten you that much?” jibed Balthazar, smirking, “really Cassie has it been that long?”  

Castiel shot him a dirty look and Balthazar laughed. “Don’t pout darling, it doesn’t suit you.”

“I’m not pouting.” Castiel retorted and his older brother rolled his eyes,

“Of course you’re not!” Balthazar snorted.  

Castiel ignored him, taking another sip of his drink as he debated how much to tell Balthazar. He loved his brothers, he couldn’t deny that but trusting them? Well that was a different matter. Out of all his family he probably trusted Gabriel the most, followed by Balthazar but that didn’t mean he trusted them further than he could shoot. Still, it was a family rule – _blood is thicker than water_ – trust your blood and nobody else. But if Lucifer was planning something who knew he had on his side. One false move could earn Castiel a knife in the ribs faster than he could blink.

But it was Balthazar… and he’d never had a reason not to trust him before. He may be a complete pain in the ass half the time but he could keep a secret better than anyone else Castiel knew.

He mused on for a moment, turning his head to look around the bar. This is turned out was not a wise idea.

He heard the gentle thud of the glass dropping onto the bar but it didn’t register. He could hear Balthazar saying, “Cassie?” but it didn’t register. He was staring at the door and the figure making his way through the crowd.

A tall figure with sandy brown hair and sculpted arms. A man no longer dressed awkwardly in a suit or hospital scrubs but instead in tight jeans and a dark shirt under a worn leather jacket. There was a relaxed, happy smile on his face as he greeted a red-haired woman, a beautiful blonde and another man, with shaggy dark hair and smiling eyes, hugging each of them in turn before settling himself at their table and ordering a drink from a passing waitress.

Dean.  

It was so strange, seeing him outside of the hospital. But just the very sight of him seemed to set Castiel’s skin on fire. It was infuriating and irritating and downright annoying but at the same time, it wasn’t…

“Darling, you’re staring.” Balthazar’s smug voice bought him back to earth with a jolt.

“Huh?”

Balthazar’s face was a picture of smirking glee. “Do mine eyes deceive me or is my baby brother actually checking out that rather handsome man’s ass?”

“No.” spluttered Castiel, feeling his face go red. “I just… I recognise him…”

“Ooooh a friend already? A previous conquest?”

“Fuck off Zar,” snapped Castiel, “he was Anna’s doctor.”

Those were definitely the wrong words.

“Is he now?” Balthazar grinned, “that wouldn’t happen to be the amazingly hot but infuriating Doctor Dean Winchester? The one with the devilish smile and squeezable ass, who makes all women succumb to his charms?”

“Fuck Gabriel.” Castiel muttered under his breath. His brother talked to much.

“Actually, it was Kali as well, but I wouldn’t touch either of them to be honest. Especially Gabriel, who knows where he’s been!”

“You are disgusting.” Castiel groaned, rolling his eyes at his brother. “Must you lower the tone so much?”

“You wound me. Anyway, this is my bar I’ll set the tone as low as I want.”

“It was barely an inch off the floor to begin with.”

“As high as that? I must be doing something wrong!” chuckled Balthazar. He casually studied Castiel, which worried the youngest Novak slightly. His fears were confirmed when his older brother opened his mouth again. “So, what are you going to do about it?”

“About what?” snarked Castiel, although he knew exactly what Balthazar was talking about. He didn’t like the direction this conversation was heading in. Given that it seemed to be a choice between talking about Dean or Lucifer, Castiel would have gladly have chosen the latter. But apparently, he wasn’t going to get a choice.

“Don’t play dumb little brother, it doesn’t suit you.” Balthazar beckoned one the beautiful women behind the bar over. “Bela, darling, I need you to do something for me.”

“That depends on what you had in mind, Mr Novak.” The woman retorted, a questioning smile on her painted red lips.

Balthazar chuckled again, leaning in conspiratorially. “Nothing like that. Do you see that devilishly handsome young man in the dark shirt and leather jacket over there?” Bela nodded as Balthazar pointed. “I need you to take him a double of the finest whiskey we have and tell him it is from the _lovely_ Castiel here.” Bela nodded again, reaching for a glass. “Oh and no last name necessary.” Balthazar added as an afterthought.

“Balthazar this is ridiculous. You’re being an ass.” Castiel added, a desperate note in his voice which was ridiculous considering who he was. And who he was arguing with.

“Definitely. But you’re not going to do anything about it!”

“I don’t even think he likes men.” Castiel threw in, attempting to get his brother to reconsider, which was pretty hopeless by this point. Once Balthazar had an idea he was like a dog with bone.

“Well there’s one way to find out. Bela,” he called, beckoning the woman over again. “I will give you,” he pulled a wad of notes out his pocket, “fifty bucks in you make that man squirm. About darling Cassie of course.”

Bela smirked, eyeing up the pair of them and looking back at Dean. “Make it a hundred and you’ve got a deal.”

“Done! But remember, I want to see him squirm!” Balthazar laughed at the horrified look on Castiel’s face as Bela sauntered away across the floor. Castiel wanted the floor to open and swallow him up. There was still time for him to get away and blame it on Balthazar instead. But his brother seemed to read his mind, firmly grabbing the back of Castiel’s jacket and muttering, “oh no. You’re staying right here.”

Castiel wondered if the was a corkscrew around that he could stab Balthazar with. Just a little, to make him let go. But it was too late. Bela had reached the table as was leaning over Dean, practically pushing her breasts into his face and purring into his ear. Dean was going redder by the second and it would have possibly been endearing, Castiel realised, had Bela not picked that exact moment to point him out to the doctor.

At this point, the end of the world would be preferable to what Castiel predicted was about to happen.

Dean was beetroot red, fidgeting in his seat, and his friends were laughing although it seemed good natured from what Castiel could fathom, not this his people skills were fantastic though. Castiel, could feel his own face going red as he turned to his brother with as much fury as he could manage.

“I hope you’re happy.” He growled, lacing every syllable with as much spite as possible. Balthazar was shaking with laughter.

“Definitely.” Bela sauntered back to them and held out her hand, until Balthazar pressed a crisp hundred-dollar bill into her palm.

“Please doing business with you Mr Novak.”

Castiel groaned. Why did he have to have several brothers who were, quite possibly, the biggest most spiteful jackasses in the county? He opened his mouth, turning to his still giggling brother, ready to unleash the full force of his anger, when Balthazar spoke.

“Before you unleash your tidal wave of anger on me, you might want to turn around.”

“Why would I want to do that Zar? So you can escape?”

“No, because your rather handsome young man is coming over.” Balthazar smirked, sliding off his stool. Castiel turned, his face still pink, as he realised that Dean really was winding his way slowly across to him, drink in hand. “I’ll give you too some privacy,” Balthazar winked, “have fun Cassie. And don’t do anything I wouldn’t!”

“I don’t think that’s possible.”

“Exactly!” Balthazar replied, disappearing out towards the back of the bar.

Castiel turned to face the approaching doctor feeling, for once in his life, completely and utterly out of control. He was fucked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone is interested, the whiskey Lucifer offers Castiel is Glenfiddich 50 year-old Single Malt Scotch Whiskey which retails around $33,900 a bottle.


	4. Guns, Knives and a Fired Shot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many apologies, I know this is a week late so please have an extra long chapter with some smut to make up for the delay. I've been having some trouble sleeping so I wrote this over several nights and then realised it was a horrible mix of tenses and while I've edited it many, many times, please let me know if there is a mistake. Also I now have Tumblr (another result of my insomnia) - I have no idea what I'm doing or how to use it but please come say hi, I've got the same name as on here. 
> 
> A/N: Additional tags for this chapter - Smut/Gay Sex (about 3,300 words of it...)

Dean was humming as he strolled down the hospital corridors, smiling at everyone he passed and throwing out the occasional wink at some of the _very_ attractive members of the medical team.

“Why are you so happy?” asked Missouri, as Dean leaned against the nurse’s station.

“C’mon Missouri, can’t I be happy?” he joked, catching the eye of the rather lovely, blonde nurse who happened to be sitting on the other side of the desk and trying to ignore Missouri’s raised eyebrows.

“Not without a good reason!”

“It’s Friday.” Answered Dean.

“And?” asked Missouri again, shooting Dean a pointed look. Dean smirked. “You’re off this weekend, aren’t you?”

“What can I say? The scheduling god’s love me.” Missouri rolled her eyes and opened her mouth but Dean held up his hand, pointing to the clock on the wall as the minute hand swung up to seven o’clock.

“Aannnd time! I’m out of here.” He sauntered down the corridor, waving at the nurses with his biggest shit eating grin on his face. “See you Monday.” Missouri waved a clipboard at him.

“Have fun with Sam and tell that boy to get his haircut again.”

Dean laughed. He was pretty sure he’d not even mentioned he was going out his brother to her but Missouri had this uncanny ability to _know_ these things. Either that or Dean was ridiculously predictable.

He hummed to himself as he pulled his bag out of his locker and checked his watch. He still had time to go home for a shower before he was due to meet Sam at some bar uptown. He wasn’t even sure where this bar was - it some fancy-ass place that Jess had picked. Well, he assumed Jess had picked it but he wouldn’t have put it past Sam. Still it would be so good to get out of here and relax for a few days – drink beer, watch TV and each as much junk food as he could stomach. He might even pick up somebody lovely to help fuck away his stress. A good one night stand wouldn’t take up too much of his weekend either.

To be honest even Dean wasn’t quite sure how he’d managed to score an entire weekend off from Friday evening to Monday morning, although he had been telling Amanda how nice she looked lately. Flattery could get you everywhere though. That was a certainty.

He was still musing on his luck when his cab pulled up outside _The Garden_. He was glad he hadn’t bought Baby, the streets were far too packed for him to park and he didn’t want to risk her getting scratched. The building itself was pretty swanky and Dean rolled his eyes, this was definitely somewhere Sam would pick.

Inside, the bar was bustling, although as it was a Friday night Dean would’ve been surprised if it was dead. He secretly admitted to himself that the room was gorgeous, lots of woodwork and exposed brick and soft lighting accompanying a long, dark wooden bar behind which, bottles upon bottles upon bottles were lined. Okay, well maybe this place wouldn’t be quite so bad.

“Dean!” He heard him name and smiled as he recognised the blonde woman waving at him. Trust them to all get here before him, lousy slackers. He wound his way over to the table that his brother, his wife and his sister-by-another-mister (as Charlie had dubbed herself) were currently occupying.

“It’s so good to see you!” exclaimed Jess, her blonde hair bouncing as she pulled him into a tight hug that wasn’t quite as bone crushing as the ones Sam gave, but not far off.

“Yeah, it’s good to see you too.”

“We missed you.” Jess added and Dean chuckled. How Sam managed to end up with such a smoking hot, adorably sweet wife is a question that will never be properly answered in this lifetime, but he didn’t have time to think about it before his brother pulled him into his hulking grip.

“Hey, where’s mine?” teased Charlie, flicking Dean’s arm as Sam released him from a hug which felt like it had cracked every vertebra in his spine. Great, it’s not like he really needs it.

He settled himself at their table, sliding into the spare seat between Jess and Charlie, flagging down a passing waitress to order a double of neat whiskey - the best they had. It was Friday after all. A Friday that preceded two whole glorious days off. He was definitely allowed to treat himself. Besides he’d get Sam to pay. It was fucking obvious that he picked the place, given the fact that he was making little heart eyes at everything he saw.

“So, how’s the hospital?”

“Ah, same old, same old. Lots of sick people. Lots of assholes who think they know better than me. Lots of pretty nurses.” He grinned, watching Sam roll his eyes. “C’mon Sam, not all of us have a super-hot, way out their league, wife to take home.” Jess laughed and Charlie snorted. Sam ignored him. “How about you guys?” he continued, knowing that they won’t necessarily be able to tell him anything.

Here’s the thing: ever since Sam started working for the FBI, and especially since he met Jess and then Charlie, Dean has attempted to wheedle as much information out of them as possible. Sometimes he could get quite a bit and sometimes it was fuck all. He doesn’t do it all the time – that would be too obvious – so he tries to choose his moments carefully and tonight, he’s feeling lucky.

What he does know is that Sam and Jess are partners, the ultimate kickass husband and wife team, who have something to do with organised crime (he thinks – based on what Sam said when he got riotously drunk on his birthday) and Charlie works with computers.

“Eh, pretty boring right now.” Replied Charlie, with a shrug of her shoulders, “maybe like a four-out-of-ten interest wise.”

Well that’s complete bullshit, thought Dean, trying not to snort into the whiskey he’d just been presented with. He took a sip to cover himself. _Fuck_ _that’s good_. He’s drinking this again. He doesn’t even know what it is and already he wants to take it home for a good time. He couldn’t help taking another sip, longer this time, loving the way the amber liquid burned on his tongue, heating up his throat as he swallowed.

“Hey, are coming out next weekend? It’s the annual Thanksgiving campaign and I need my best handmaiden!” asked Charlie, conveniently managing to change to subject and distract Dean from his whiskey reverie.

“Depends, but I doubt it. If I’m off this weekend, I’ll probably be on doubles all next.” Charlie rolled her eyes at him.

“I wish you could just call in sick!” In truth, he’d love the opportunity to skive off another weekend shift at the hospital, especially around Thanksgiving, to grab his armour and beat the ever-loving shit out of the Shadow Orcs (with foam swords of course). But work is work and if he wanted to call in sick then he’d actually better be dying or his chief of medicine would put his head on a spike and display it as a warning to all.

They sat there for a few minutes, discussing their plans for Thanksgiving while Dean happily nursed his glass of whiskey and he was a little sad when he discovered he’d drunk it all.

“Hey guys, did any of your order another drink?” Sam’s voice cut through the conversation, pointing through the crowd to the waitress sauntering towards their table. Dean’s jaw wasn't the only one that hit the flaw, he’s pretty sure Charlie’s did too. And why wouldn’t it? The woman practically looked like sex on legs, in a very tight, black mini dress that was showing an incredible amount of cleavage. There was a smouldering look on her face and a smirk on her soft red lips that almost screamed _fuck me_. And what made it even better? She’s carrying a double of whiskey.

She stopped at their table, right across from Dean, bending forward slightly so he received an ample view of her cleavage and it made him feel a little uncomfortable. In a good way.

“Excuse me,” she purred. _Fuck_ , she’s got a British accent too. “I’m looking for a Doctor Winchester.”

“That’s me.” He replied, trying to keep his voice steady. He knew that Sam, Jess and Charlie were gawking at him and he could really do with them disappearing right now.

“Excellent.” She stepped around to stand right next to him, pressing herself close and leaning down to whisper softly in his ear as she put the drink on the table. “I have to say darling that I don’t think I’ve seen a man quite as handsome as you in a while. You look so deliciously fuckable in those jeans, I don’t quite think you know what you’re doing to people. There are certainly people here who would _very_ much like to get their hands on you and that’s certainly not the only thing I’m sure they’d like. After all, I suspect you packing something amazing under there, especially given how I can see that lovely bulge in your jeans and while I’m sure you’ve already considered how I’d look on my knees in front of you, smearing my red lipstick as I suck you down, believe me when I say, I’m not the only one who wants to.”

Dean felt himself going redder and redder, his cheeks burning at the hot, whispered words being poured into his ear. Sure, he loves a girl with a dirty mouth. In bed. Not here. Not next to his brother and his wife and his best friend, who was definitely both giving him death glares and staring at the waitress’ cleavage. Sam looked like he’s trying not to laugh which confirms to Dean that he’s heard everything or at least knew what’s going on by the way that Dean was practically squirming in his seat.

“And, by the way, as I’m sure you’ve guessed, the drink is for you. It’s a double of our finest whiskey. Very smooth. And it comes courtesy of the equally delicious Castiel, who’s just desperate to find out exactly what’s underneath those jeans of yours. In case you hadn’t guessed, he’s the more handsome of the two, with the eternal sex hair and stunning baby blues.” At the name, she pointed across the bar to the two men sat at the far end. One of them was older, in a deep v-neck shirt, laughing helplessly. The other, sat next to him was beetroot red and wearing an expression of death-wishing embarrassment and murderous indignation. It took a second for Dean to recognise him, because he hasn’t seen him for a week, but the figure is none other than Mr Collins.

Holy fuck. Why? Why? Fucking why? Why did it have to be him? It could have been any other fucking man in the whole fucking city and it had to be the one that’s been haunting Dean’s thoughts for the past two weeks. He wanted to scream. He wanted to walk right up to the guy, throw the drink in his face and ask him what the fuck he thought he was playing at?!

He’s so stunned that he barely registers when the girl tells him to enjoy his drink or the sound of Sam and Jess giggling. He just wanted to ground to open and swallow him whole. And not like that!

And it’s not that he’s a guy. That’s not the problem here. Dean realised long ago that he was equally happy with guys as he was with girls. His sexuality crisis happened way back – that’s all in the past, thank you very much. The problem is that this man, _this man_ , is the single most infuriating human being to ever walk into Dean’s hospital. Ever. And that’s saying something.

He couldn’t work out what it is that bugs him about this guy.

Sure, he’s devastatingly handsome. You’d be a blind fool not to notice that. He’s got the most amazing face Dean’s ever seen, with a dusting of stubble across achingly amazing cheekbones and the most piercing blue eyes that appear to be staring right into his soul. And he’s pretty sure that under that ridiculous suit and trench coat there’s a body worth worshipping. His clothes hang off him at all the right angles that just scream that there’s definitely something amazing under them. And the voice. Smooth as whiskey and with a delicious deep, gravelly-ness to it that Dean can’t help but imagine what it would sound like wrecked and wanton as they fucked.

But his attitude? Well, he was just fucking rude and it’s infuriating. He was so demanding, acting like he actually cared about some girl Dean was pretty sure he’d hardly seen before in his life. Wanting to know about her injuries, asking about treatment plans, paying for all her extensive medical treatment. Guy was such as asshole.

Except… except. Maybe he wasn’t. Not quite as much as Dean had made him out to be. He’d come to visit Anna a couple of times, always asking the nurses about her progress and he was pretty sure the flowers and cookies the nurses had received when Anna had been discharged had been from him too. Some sort of weird thank you gift. Jerk.

And maybe, just maybe. Dean would be willing to forgive him a teeny, tiny bit except for the fact the guy had just fucking humiliated him in front his family. Jesus fucking Christ, there was no way back from this.

“Dean? Dean!” Sam’s voice snapped him back into reality.

“What Sam?” replied Dean, his voice harsher than he had intended.

“Just um, we were wondering. Who was the drink from?” Sam was still trying to suppress his laughter.

“Well I’m guessing it’s one of those two sat at the bar, based on where she pointed.” Added Charlie, looking across the room. “It wasn’t from her was it?”

“No…” Dean stammered out. This was ridiculous, his entire family (and Charlie) know about his sexual preferences. Sam most notably but if he had learned to knock when he was a teenager then he wouldn’t have gotten an eyeful of Dean’s ass while he was fucking his boyfriend at the time.

“Which one?” asked Jess, joining Charlie in gazing across the room.

“Fucking Christ, don’t all stare.” Dean snapped, before adding, “the dark haired one in the trench coat” in a quiet voice and taking a much-needed swig of whiskey to calm his nerves.

“Wow Dean. He’s hot. Like ridiculously, supernova hot and that’s coming from someone who doesn’t even bat for that team.” Charlie added, an almost approving look on her face.

“Seconded,” added Jess, nodding. “Seriously sexy. You should go talk to him.”

“And say what exactly?”

“Well, you could start by thanking him for the drink.” Suggested Jess, “and then who knows? You deserve to have some fun!”

“Sam, please tell your wife to stop trying to get me laid.”

“Sorry man, I’m not picking that fight.” Sam shrugged, hastily backing out of the conversation like the god-damn coward that he is. Bastard.

“Ahhh fine, fine, fine! Bunch of vultures.” He snapped, extricating himself from his chair. He picked the glass up to take with him, there was no way he was doing this without alcohol. And he’s definitely not going to be nice. No way. The guy fucking humiliated him so he deserves what he’s going to get, Dean thought as he begins to weave his way across the floor.

He looked at Mr Collins, no… Castiel again, ready to let rip but his angers tempered slightly. The guy looked just as humiliated as Dean felt. He’s ranting animatedly at the man sat next to him who slid off his stool, disappearing quickly and Castiel turned to face Dean. His face was still a shocking shade of pink that stretched from his hairline all the way down the soft curves his neck and into the collar of his shirt. It’s almost… endearing.

Fuck that. It’s cute as hell.

“Hey,” said Dean, stopping dead in front of Castiel, fixing his eyes on those beautiful blues. “Thanks for the drink.”

xxx

“You’re welcome.”

Castiel couldn’t quite get the words out, almost tripping on them as they stumbled off his tongue. He’d been expecting to be shouted at, to be challenged, to at least be asked what the fuck he was doing - anything but this. He hadn’t imagined the words ‘thank you’ to be part of the equation.

“I apologise for the way it was delivered to you, Doctor Winchester,” he added, quickly trying to make amends for the entire situation. “My brother seemed to think it would be highly amusing to try and make you feel uncomfortable. He has a tendency to be a bit of an ass.”

Dean chuckled and Castiel couldn’t quite believe it. This wasn’t what he was expecting and it threw him. He could feel a little frown appearing on his face as he considered the man in front of him, who was leaning on the bar and gazing at Castiel with the most perfect pair of green eyes, surrounded by long dark lashes. He’d never seen anything like them before and he couldn’t help but swallow audibly.

Dean Winchester far away was amazing but Dean Winchester close-up was devastating.

“Don’t worry about it.” Added Dean, taking a little sip of the whiskey, “I kinda figured it wasn’t your idea when I saw the look on your face.” There’s a little smile there, Castiel noted. It’s not quite the cocky one he saw at the hospital, it was a tiny bit more real and it sent warmth coursing through him. How one little smile could make him feel like that was unnerving. All ideas that Dean Winchester is an obnoxious jackass are slowly being melted away and the feelings that remained startled Castiel.  

“So, your brother huh?”

“Yes,” Castiel sighed, “he believes that because he owns this bar that that gives him the right to do whatever the fuck he wants.”

“Seriously?” Dean’s eyes were wide, a look of incredulity on his face, “your brother owns this place?”

“Yes. This and a few others.” He really didn’t want to talk about the family business right now, not when there were so many other things he’d rather be doing with Dean. “And those are your friends?” he added casually because he’s done the maths in his head and there are two rather beautiful women there and only one other man.

“Oh, shit yeah. That’s my brother, Sam and his wife Jess, she’s the blonde.” He indicated them casually and Castiel noted that they were all watching carefully. “And the other girl is Charlie, she’s like the sister I never wanted.”

Sister. That boded well.

“I don’t have a sister,” Castiel added, “just four brothers and they are more than enough.” It was probably a stupid thing to say so he took a sip of his drink to steady his nerves. He had no idea what he was doing, he’s never really flirted with anybody in his life. But Dean smiled at him and slid an inch or two closer.

“I’m sorry,” Castiel stammered slightly, “about the hospital. I realise I was quite rude to you, doctor.”

“It’s Dean,” the other man replied, sliding ever closer. “I’m sorry too, I was a bit of a dick to you.”

“A bit?” Castiel laughed and so did Dean. “Well, I probably deserved it, my people skills are pretty rusty.”

“They’re not that bad.”

“They can’t be great,” Castiel countered, “I’m talking to you about my brother and my lack of people skills instead of other things, like how handsome I think you are.” His voice trailed off at the end as he realised what a stupid thing it was to say. Dean smirked and sidled up, putting his hand on Castiel’s thigh.

“Are you trying to seduce me Cas?” he murmured and Castiel could feel the warmth of his breath prickling on his skin.

“Possibly, but then again, I don’t know if I’d know how to.” Dean laughed and the tension eased a little. He slid himself into the seat next to Castiel and he was so close their knees kept bumping together, sending little shockwaves coursing through Castiel’s body.

After that, things seemed easier between them and the conversation flitted easily back and forth. Gabriel would call it banter as it’s not particularly focused. As rusty as Castiel’s people skills were, he realised that Dean was flirting with him, which was quite possibly the most amazing outcome of the whole thing. He kept calling him Cas too, a name Castiel has never had before. Cas is a man he’s never been before… it unnerved him but he couldn’t tell whether it was a bad thing.  

Castiel was trying to listen and respond to everything Dean said but at the same time, he couldn’t help becoming fixated on Dean’s face, taking in the smattering of freckles and soft swell of his lips. He leaned a little closer, trying to focus on Dean’s words but those lips were just begging to be kissed, especially when Dean’s tongue flicked out to moisten them. The dam broke and Castiel couldn’t help but lean forward to press a heated kiss to Dean’s lips, cutting him off mid-sentence.

It took a second or two for Dean to register the kiss. Then a hand snaked up onto Castiel’s neck to pull him in closer, a tiny feral growl escaping Dean’s lips that did all sorts of things to Castiel’s insides. It wasn’t exactly a chaste kiss, but it wasn’t pornographic either. There was heat there and blazing desire, that radiated through Castiel and sent encouraging messages to both his brain and his dick. When they pulled apart Castiel wasn’t sure why he was finding it hard to breathe. Dean Winchester was too fucking sexy for his own good, that’s for certain. But he wasn’t not going to complain because this is definitely not where he saw things going.

Things went from amazingly bad to amazingly worse when the doctor in question pulled Castiel closer and whispered,

“Let’s get out of here.”

A tiny, desperate moan escaped Castiel, without him really noticing. He desperately wanted to take up the offer, ignoring all his better instincts, and take Dean home with him immediately. But there was a niggling problem that was starting to rear its head and it was currently sitting heavily on his ribcage.

“I’ll be back in a moment,” he said, softly, “I just need to let me brother know I’m leaving.”

“Is he your babysitter?” Dean smirked.

“No, but if I don’t tell him he’ll try ringing my cell or banging down my door and I _really_ don’t think that would be a good idea. I think we might be a little preoccupied to entertain visitors.” Dean’s eyes closed for a second and he bit his lip, his brain obviously supplying some delicious imagery to accompany Castiel’s words.

Castiel slid off the stool and made his way towards Balthazar’s office, slowly at first because he was pretty sure Dean was watching him walk away, but he practically ran down the back corridor to find his brother as soon as he was out of sight.

In truth Balthazar wouldn’t give a fuck if Castiel didn’t tell him that he was leaving, but it was a handy enough excuse. Castiel barely even bothered to knock, just pounding on the office door once with his fist before turning the handle to let himself in.

Balthazar was sat behind his desk, a glass of wine in one hand as he appeared to be pouring over some form of paperwork. While it was surprising to see his brother doing some form of work for once, Castiel barely noticed it, instead slamming the door behind him and beginning to fish into various pockets and holsters, shucking off his trench coat in the process.

“Cassie? Everything ok?” Balthazar’s voice was attempting to stay steady but Castiel realised how it must look. His little brother charging in without a word and now starting to undress to allow better access to the concealed weapons he always carried.  

“Yes,” snapped Castiel and then paused, knowing that he was about to give Balthazar some serious blackmail and taunting material. “I’m, um, going home. And I need to leave some things with you.”

It took perhaps point five of a second for his brother to register exactly what Castiel was implying. Then a wry smile spread across his face, a combination of smugness and feigned innocence. If Castiel wasn’t in such a hurry, he’d seriously consider shooting him.

“Why Cassie, I have no idea why you’d need to leave things here. I can’t imagine what situation might have arisen where you need to leave those with me.” He said, gesturing at the three knives and two handguns that Castiel had deposited on the desk in front of him. “You’re not suggesting that you might be taking that incredible looking man back to your apartment, are you? How scandalous!”

“Fuck off Zar. If you breathe a word of this to anyone, even Gabriel, heaven help me I will kill you myself.” Castiel growled. He knew it was risky, leaving all of his weapons with Balthazar and going home unprotected, so to speak. If Michael knew he’d have a fit. But it’s not as if there weren’t concealed spares at the apartment and the last thing that Castiel wanted was to have to try and explain why he’s carrying guns to Dean while they’re undressing.

“I’ll come and collect them over the weekend.” He added, turning on his heels, knowing that for all his feigned shock and annoying behaviour, Balthazar would keep his secret. Even if it’s just so he can torment him with it at a later date.

“Have fun.” Balthazar called out as he left and Castiel didn’t quite catch his brother’s final words as he strode back towards the bar, but he assumed they were both lewd and grossly inappropriate.

He’d only been, maybe, five minutes at the most but Castiel couln’t help but feel a flood of relief that Dean was still sat at the bar waiting for him. He’d had a tiny, niggling doubt in his mind that maybe Dean would leave and that wasn’t something he’d wanted to contemplate. But he was still there and he turned to look at Castiel as he approached, a little grin on his god-damn-gorgeous pink lips. A burning hunger ignited itself in Castiel’s abdomen as his brain began to imagine all of the delicious things he wanted to do to this man.

He walked right up behind Dean, placing a hand on the man’s well-muscled thigh and leaned in to whisper, “would you like to leave now?”. Dean’s response was to smirk as he wrapped his hand possessively around Castiel’s wrist.

“Lead the way.”

xxx

Castiel hailed a cab, pulling Dean along with him and practically pushing the other man onto the back seat, sliding in next to him and feeling the heat already rolling off the doctor’s body. He pulled Dean into a crushing kiss, the heat seared his lips as they fell open, Dean’s tongue pushing its way possessively into Castiel’s mouth, determined to map out all of its contours.

Castiel couldn’t remember giving his address to the driver or the drive there, he was too busy pulling Dean close as kiss upon kiss upon searing kiss rained down on his mouth, leaving his chapped lips swollen and slick. He tugged desperately at Dean’s shirt, aching to explore the expanses of hot, smooth skin underneath. They broke apart as the car pulled up, not caring that anyone could have seen them. Castiel couldn’t take his eyes off Dean as he followed him out of the cab, throwing a fifty-dollar bill at the driver and telling him to keep the change. He grabbed Dean’s wrist and pulled him through the door, nodding briefly at the doorman and jabbing the button on the elevator with more force than was necessary.

As soon as the doors closed around them, they were on each other again. Castiel moaned softly as Dean’s teeth pulled at his bottom lip before he left a scorching trail of kisses along Castiel’s jaw and down his neck, eliciting another moan as he settled on the pulse point on Castiel’s neck, sucking it and raking his tongue over the skin. Castiel threw his head back, resting it on the mirrored wall, eyes closed as pleasure swept through him. His cock was already hard, making his slacks uncomfortably tight and all his thoughts centred on everything he wanted to do to Dean.

They stumbled out of the elevator, Castiel dragging Dean as fast as possible towards his apartment. He fumbled with the keys as Dean wrapped his arms around him from behind, pressing his body against Castiel’s as he continued his assault on Castiel’s neck and jaw. He could feel Dean’s cock pressing into him and it was making it so much harder to concentrate on unlocking the door when all he wanted to do was push back against Dean and grind up against him. Castiel nearly dropped the keys when Dean gently nibbled at his earlobe, pulling it and sucking it before breaking off to whisper,

“Hurry up, Cas, I want you so badly.” His voice had dropped an octave or two, and it was already rough and wrecked just from the cab here and the elevator ride up.

The door locked clicked and Castiel pulled them though, slamming the door behind them before he found himself being pushed up against it. Dean’s lips were already on his again and another moan escaped his throat as he pulled Dean closer, threading his fingers into the back of Dean’s hair and pulling the taller man down to kiss him.

Dean’s hands were never still. They ran all over Castiel’s body, sweeping down his chest, brushing over his nipples before sliding around his waist to grab his ass and pull him closer.

“You’re wearing too many clothes.” Dean growled, breaking off their kiss for a moment and looking at Castiel with hungry eyes. His lips were swollen and pink and all Castiel could think about was how amazing they would look wrapped around his cock. He groaned and pulled Dean in for a crushing kiss, before breaking apart and looking at the other man with a smirk.

“You are too.”  

“Then we better take some off.” Dean’s tone was cocky as he slid his hands up, pushing Castiel’s trench-coat down over his shoulders to crumple on the floor. He pulled at his tie and began rapidly trying to undo all the buttons of his dress shirt. “Why are you wearing so many fucking clothes?” he muttered, shooting Castiel a dirty look. Castiel just smiled,

“I think I look good in a suit.”

“You got that right. You look fucking awesome in a suit.”

They stopped talking after that.

xxx

Dean wasn’t quite sure how but they made it to Cas’ bedroom, shedding clothing as they went. In between all the amazing amount of kissing, he’d been able to get a few glances of Cas’s apartment and it seemed like a pretty nice place. Modern, tidy, comfortable. Not that any of that was of any interest to him right now.

The bedroom was dark, lit purely by the city lights that floated in through the large windows. Still they were far enough up that Dean didn’t really give a fuck if somebody saw them. If they wanted to watch, let ‘em. He was far more interested in the body right in front of him, and trying to elicit as many filthy little noises from Castiel as possible.

By the time they’d reached the bed, which Dean happily noticed was huge (seriously how did one man need that much space), they were both down to their boxers and Dean licked his lips. Cas’s body was firm and toned, and he could see his dick tenting in the front of his _very_ tight boxer briefs that clung deliciously to well-muscled thighs and the best ass Dean had seen for years. He was pretty sure Castiel could do some serious damage with those muscles, after all you don’t get thighs that toned without having _excellent_ stamina and Dean was desperate to put them to good use. But the thing that really excited Dean? The tattoos.

He’d gasped when he’d pulled of Cas’s shirt to see a myriad of tattoos across the man’s gorgeous tanned skin. There were the two half sleeves that spilled onto his chest, the inscriptions inked across his ribcage and the dark tips of something large, peeking over the tops of his shoulders. Fuck. Cas had been delicious to look at to start with but now? Those tattoos sent Dean’s blood rushing south faster that you could say… something. He’d attacked Cas’s skin with fresh vigour, desperate to run his tongue over them and taste the delicious saltiness of sweat on his tanned skin.

He found himself crowded up against the edge of the bed as Castiel continues his assault on Dean’s mouth, licking his tongue in and exploring every crevice and pulling wantonly at Dean’s bottom lip, dragging little moans out of Dean that he didn’t even think he was capable of making. He grabbed Castiel’s ass, pulling him as close as possible, squeezing the firm muscle and running his finger along the cleft, shuddering at the little growl that escaped Cas’s throat.

He’s not quite sure how, but somehow, he ended up flat on his back in the middle of Castiel’s bed, looking up at the dark-haired man with the swollen, pink lips who was wearing what can only be described as a predatory look and _fuck_ if that didn’t do something to Dean’s insides.

“Are you just going to look at me?” Dean quipped, giving Cas his best smouldering look. Cas smirked at him but said nothing, continuing to stare at Dean as if drinking in every inch of his body and it was both fucking maddening and erotic.

“I’m just enjoying the view,” he added, finally, “and wondering where to start.” His voice was as smooth as whiskey and so gravelly that it set fire to Dean’s veins and without warning Cas was on him again, lowering himself on top of Dean and trailing burning kisses up his throat. A tiny moan escaped Dean’s lips as he tilted his head back, willingly allowing Cas to continue and bucking up against him as he felt Cas’s cock lining up against his own. He craved that delicious friction and couldn’t help grinding up against the other man as Cas slid his hand down to pinch Dean’s nipple.

“What do you want Dean?” asked Cas, gently tugging at Dean’s earlobe before licking the shell of his ear. “Tell me what you want.”

God, those words were delicious in themselves. But they caused a problem, because they meant Dean had to make a decision and he’s not sure right now that he can. He was pretty sure his brain wasn’t currently functioning and that all his available blood was pumping into his cock, which was straining against the soft fabric of his boxer briefs, desperately grinding against Cas. He wanted Cas to fuck him but he wanted to fuck Cas and he definitely wanted to explore Cas’s body and even though he’s not seen it, he was pretty damn certain that there was a gorgeous cock in Cas’s boxers which he _really_ wanted to get his mouth on but then again, he wouldn’t say no to Cas blowing him either and what they’ve got going on right now is pretty sweet, even if dry humping in their underwear does feel a little high school-y.

“Well?” demanded Cas, sucking on the skin below Dean’s ear and honest to fucking God, chuckling at the wanton little moan that slipped out of Dean’s mouth. That was not helping matters. Thank fuck his body knew what he wanted because the words,

“Fuck me Cas.” Slid out of his mouth before he could register them in his brain but the desperate moan and grind that were Cas’s response sent pleasure spiking through Dean and instantly he knew he’d made the right choice. Especially as Cas’s response was to start working his way down Dean’s body, trailing hot kisses over his skin, rolling his nipples between his tongue and teeth which caused Dean to gasp and grab the sheets before he registered that Cas was running his fingers under the waist band of his underwear, closely followed by his tongue as he pulled the top down and started sucking little marks onto the dips in Dean’s hips.

Xxx

Cas could feel his skin prickling and his blood pounding as he drank in the sight of Dean in front of him. Leaning up, he smirked and pulled Dean’s boxers down over his thighs and Dean lifted his hips slightly to allow him to slide them down over his perfect ass. Castiel tossed them aside and a pleased little sigh escaped his lips as he gazed down at Dean’s dick, which God might be just as delicious as his ass.

It was swollen and thick, with a little bead of precome escaping from the flushed head and Castiel couldn’t help running his tongue over his puffy, sore lips at the sight of it. All he could feel was want surging through him at the sight of this fucking perfect specimen of a man all laid out for him, his eyes practically begging for Castiel and that was something he couldn’t refuse.

He leant down again to flick his tongue across the top of Dean’s swollen shaft, lapping up the salty-sweet precome and delighting in the filthy little gasps that escaped Dean’s lips. He teased Dean slightly, running his tongue across the head and flicking it firmly across the slit before, without warning, engulfing Dean in his mouth.

“ _Fuuuck.”_

Dean threw hot, violent curses into the air, bucking his hips up as Castiel took all of Dean’s cock into the warm, wetness of his mouth until his nose pressed into the trimmed dark hair at the base of his shaft. Slowly he slid his tongue up the underside, revelling in pulling all those little noises from Dean as he tightened his lips around him and slowly slid his mouth up and down.

Castiel has never really been that fond of giving head before but right now he could understand why some people loved it. The desperate noises that Dean was trying, and failing, to suppress combined with the musky scent of Dean’s sex was a heady combination and Cas could feel the want surging in his gut, his own cock hanging thickly between his legs, begging for attention.

Castiel gently brought one hand down to squeeze Dean’s sack, sliding one finger over his perineum and applying just enough pressure to hear Dean gasp slightly. He slid the other hand up, to flick Dean’s nipple, which he’d discovered to be pleasantly sensitive, relishing in the new sounds it drew from Dean.

“Fuck, Cas… please just, _fuck_!” Cas couldn’t help but smirk to himself at the wanton little noises that Dean was making and with a pornographic popping, Castiel pulled off Dean’s cock, leaving it slick and shining.

Firmly, he pressed a hand to the outside of Dean’s thigh and he immediately got the message, rolling himself onto his stomach, leaning on his elbows and canting his hips up in the air to present Cas with what surely must be the most perfect ass in the universe. He wanted to stare at it, just admiring it, but his cock was so hard it was almost painful and he desperately wanted to be inside Dean and feel that tight ass clenching around him.

Hurriedly, he got up to fish in the nightstand for a condom and his bottle of lube, returning to the bed as fast as physically possible.

“Are you gonna stare at me all night, or are you actually gonna fuck me?” growled Dean, twisting his head around to glare pointedly at Castiel.

Castiel decided not to dignify his question with a verbal response, but an oral one instead. He grabbed Dean’s perfect ass and squeezed before parting his cheeks to run his tongue over Dean’s hot, tight hole, eliciting a deep moan from the other man, followed by a steady stream of curses as Cas began to lick his tongue into Dean, working him loose with just his mouth.

After a few minutes, Dean was a writhing, sweating mess in front of him, clasping at the sheets and practically _begging_ Castiel to finger him. He poured a generous amount of lube onto his fingers, warming it between them before he slid one finger into Dean down to the knuckle, revelling in just how hot and tight Dean was. He barely gave Dean time to adjust before he started pumping his finger in and out of him, curling it slightly and searching for that bundle of nerves that he knew would have Dean seeing stars. He knew he got it right when Dean pretty much yelled,

“ _Fuck_.” And began chanting, “oh fuck Cas, right there.” Over and over as Cas slid a second finger in, scissoring Dean open and palming his cock through his boxers with his other hand.

By the time he was up to three fingers, Cas wasn’t quite sure how much longer his patience was going to last because his whole body was practically screaming at him to fuck Dean. Dean was clasping at the sheets, his body practically trembling as he turned his head slightly looking at Castiel with a desperate, wrecked look.

“Fuck me, please… Cas, c’mon just fuck me. I need you so bad.”

And that, Castiel decided, was enough.

He removed his fingers and his own boxers, rolling the condom onto his neglected cock and spreading a few pumps of lube onto his length, moaning at the touch and the sight of Dean spread out in front of him. Kneeling behind Dean, he lined up and gently pushed in.

His whole body felt like it was on fire. He knew it would feel good but Dean was just so fucking _hot_ and _tight_ that Cas found himself taking increasingly deep breathes to try and control himself or he knew things were going to end before they even got started and that was something that he really didn’t want.

Dean groaned as Cas filled him, bottoming out and revelling in the feel of Dean around him, grasping tightly at Dean’s delicious hips to steady himself.

“Move.” Growled Dean, pushing back against Cas, before tipping forward and starting to fuck himself on Cas’s aching cock. “ _Fuck me Cas.”_  

That was all the encouragement Castiel needed. He loved the slight, tight drag as he pulled out slightly and the gasp as he slid all the way back in, picking up a steady pace as he thrust into Dean’s heat. He loved the sight of his cock sliding in and out of Dean’s stretched out hole and the gasping, panting noises every time he thrust all the way in.

“Harder, Cas, fuck me harder.” Dean groaned and Cas was very happy to oblige, snapping his hips and pulling Dean onto him, mercilessly pounding into Dean, gasping and moaning at the tight heat all around him and the pornographic slap of skin. He shifted his angle slightly, pushing Dean down a little and revelled in the outburst of curses that poured from Dean’s throat as Cas’s cock pounded against his prostate.

Despite his best efforts, Cas could feel the familiar heat and tightness of his orgasm building in his abdomen but he wanted Dean to come first, to feel his ass clench tightly around his cock, so he slid his hand around Dean’s hips and wrapped Dean’s swollen dick in his hand, pumping it in time with the snap of his hips.

“Cas, oh, fuckfuckfuck.” Gasped Dean as his orgasm overtook him and he shot hot ribbons of come across the bed, gasping as Castiel stroked him through it. A moan ripped from Castiel’s throat as Dean’s hole clenched around him, making it impossibly tight, squeezing his cock and Cas felt his pace start to stutter as his release built. A few more snaps of his hips and Castiel came with a shout, Dean’s name on hips lips as he milked himself into the condom, clutching at Dean’s perfect ass as stars burst in front of his eyes, his whole body shaking as he desperately tried to get air into his lungs, his sex still pulsing from the most intense orgasm he’d had in a very, very long time.

He leant on Dean’s hips, trying to steady his breathing, feeling his cock going soft. He pulled out, collapsing into a heap with Dean on the bed, and tried to discreetly dispose of the condom, wrapping it in a tissue from the box on his nightstand. He rummaged in the drawer, pulling out a disposable wet nap and offering it to Dean.

“That was…” he muttered, not quite able to finish the sentence, blood still pounding in his veins.  

“Yeah.”

There was a comfortable silence between them as the lay entwined together in the middle of the bed. Castiel found himself slipping into that comfortable post-sex haze, verging on the edge of sleep. He glanced over at Dean, who seemed to be fighting the same battle but there was a look on his face which suggested that he felt that he ought to be leaving, which Castiel definitely didn’t want because there was so much more he wanted to do with this man.

“Stay please.” He muttered, “I’d quite like to repeat that in the morning, or at least introduce you to my shower. The water pressure is excellent and it’s a rather good place for a blowjob.” He knew he was rambling and probably being slightly too formal, especially considering how he’d just fucked Dean into his mattress, but it seemed to work because Dean sighed,

“Sounds like a good plan Cas,” and slid himself up the bed and under the stained comforter, pulling it down to allow Castiel to wiggle in next to him. Dean was warm next to him and there was a heady scent of whiskey and sex dragging Castiel towards sleep. He knew he shouldn’t sleep. Shouldn’t let his guard down. He barely knew this man and now he was practically snuggling up to him?! Michael would shoot him on the spot if he knew. But for once in his miserable life, Castiel ignored his worries and his doubts and the Novak voice in his head, that told him to boot Dean out to door. Right now, he didn’t have to be Castiel Novak – son and brother of some of New York’s most infamous criminal masterminds – he could just be Cas, a man he didn’t even know who he was yet. But it was the thought of the endless possibilities and better yet, the hope that that gives him that pulled Castiel into a comfortable sleep.


	5. Under Pressure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew, I am so sorry for the delay! Never try and plan a wedding, finish a Masters degree and job hunt at the same time... it's not healthy! Anyway here I am back with another chapter - I apologies, there isn't a lot of plot here but I'll get back to it I promise! More badass, kickass and violent times ahead!
> 
> I'm gonna try and get back to a regular schedule as well but there won't be an update in 2 weeks (on the 19th July) as it's both my birthday and my wedding day (cue manic panicking!) but I'll try and get one done around that time.

_Where the hell am I?_

This was Dean’s first thought as he slowed edged back into consciousness and the world of the living. This was definitely not his bed. Sure it was comfortable, but it was no memory foam. Memory foam remembered and this mattress was certainly not remembering him.

His eyes blinked open slowly, taking in the strange surroundings. The room he was in was soft grey, simply furnished with large floor to ceiling windows that took up most of one wall, overlooking the city. The soft light of dawn was flooding in through them but luckily it was a cloudy morning in late November, so it wasn’t blinding.

He also realised he was naked. Totally bare ass naked.

There was a little noise beside him and he opened his eyes fully, turning his head to examine the source of the noise. And in less than a second, everything from the previous night came flooding back to him in glorious, delicious detail.

Cas was asleep next to him, slightly on his side facing Dean. His face was softer in sleep, the slight crinkles of concern or confusion gone from his face. Sleep made him look younger. Not that Dean knew how old he was anyway. It wasn’t a question he usually asked his dates, well not since college where his rule had definitely been legal age and above since a very close encounter with his roommates very forward little sister.

The other man was still naked, the comforter wrapped around his waist. Dean couldn’t help staring a little, taking in more of the details of Cas’s body. After all he’d been a little distracted last night to take it all in properly, especially since Cas had insisted in doing all of the hard work and there was so much Dean had wanted to do to that sinful looking skin.

Still, it was morning and that meant it was time to go. He wasn’t even sure what he was still doing here. Usually he was a fuck and leave kinda guy. He very rarely stayed over, preferring to go back to the comfort of his own apartment and he never took people back to his place. Thank God the hospital made a wonderful excuse. He’d managed to use the old ‘sorry the hospital called, it’s an emergency’ line more times than he could count and it worked every single time.

It wasn’t that he was a bad person necessarily but Dean did not do relationships. Period. Not after his last few dreadful attempts. Much better to have a good fuck or two with a beautiful looking human and then move on.

And that was what he was going to now. As soon as he could find the energy to move.

He tried giving his legs as little wriggle to energise them and his muscles responded defiantly. In fact his whole body felt like jelly. Aching jelly. Well, if he was honest, the sex had been awesome. Especially as they hadn’t fucked before and that was always something you had to consider. Still, he could at least conclude that Cas was pretty damn good in bed, which was a little bit of surprise given how the guy acted; dorky, cold and slightly deadpan – but strip away the bad people skills and there was something pretty fucking sweet underneath. Metaphorically and literally.

It was definitely time to get up now.

The room was filling with light and he really wanted to be gone before Cas woke up. He was pretty sure Cas had suggested another round or two this morning but Dean had plans for his weekend off - even if they were just sitting at home watching bad television.

Another round wouldn’t hurt, would it? Perhaps, this time, Castiel would let Dean get his mouth on him and possibly his fingers too. That sounded like an excellent idea.

No. Love ‘em and leave ‘em remember! No morning after breakfasts, no can-I-see-you-again and NO relationships!

He scooted over to the edge of the bed and swung his legs out, muscles groaning at the forced activity. He wrenched himself up into a seated position and rubbed his hands across his eyes and then through his hair as his body grumbled at him. He was sat on the edge facing the windows and he had to admit the view was stunning. Dean couldn’t remember what floor they were on but it was high enough that he could see the sun rising over the city, glinting off the buildings and highlighting the early morning mist hanging round the tops of the skyscrapers.

Cas must be loaded to afford a view like this. He’d mentioned that his brother owned _The Garden_ and a couple of other places, maybe Cas ran them with him? Although he didn’t look like somebody who ran a bar, more like some sort of tax accountant. An unholily sexy tax accountant.

Stay on track Winchester. Time to go.

He looked about the room for his clothes, swearing up and down to himself that they’d been on the floor when they fell asleep. Well some of them anyway – there should definitely be a line of clothes between here and the front door.

And yet… nothing.

Had Castiel hidden all of his clothes to stop him from leaving? Because that just screamed creepy-stalker-wierdo vibes that Dean wanted nothing to be a part of. That’d already happened to him once and he’d had to climb out the girl’s fire-escape to get out in nothing but his boxers, calling Sam to come rescue him and enduring his brother’s torment for a good six months before he’d forgotten about it.

Then Dean spotted a pair of boxers and everything was ok. He exhaled, pulling himself up and stepping carefully across the room to collect them off the floor. There was a little stirring noise behind him,

“Dean?”

Cas was sitting up in bed, rubbing is eyes and blinking repeatedly as he squinted at Dean in a suspicious manner. “What time is it?”

“Not sure Cas,” Dean answered. It was the truth anyway. He knew he should be finding the rest of his clothes but he couldn’t help staring at the miles of soft skin now on show. It was doing… things… to his insides.

“Are you leaving?” Cas asked, tilting his head to one side, a curious little frown appearing on his face with two little lines forming between his eyebrows.

“Um, yeah… I… well…” Dammit! This was why he always tried to leave directly after sex or before the other person woke up – this was always a ridiculously awkward conversation and he had a feeling that Castiel wouldn’t buy the emergency at the hospital excuse. He seemed far too smart for that.

A curious little smirk curled itself onto Cas’s lips as he looked at Dean. He stretched his arms above his head, flexing the muscles in his chest and shoulders. Dean swallowed audibly.

“Well, if you want to leave, you should leave.” Cas said. He fixed his incredible eyes on Dean, who felt like his very soul was being examined. “I suppose I shall just have to shower alone…”

He pulled the remainder of the comforter back, exposing the rest of his body to view and it took all of Dean’s waning self-control not to jump on him then and there. Cas grinned at him again, swinging his legs out of bed and pulling himself upright. Fuck the man was gorgeous. Just miles upon miles of toned, softly tanned and tattooed skin that was just begging to be kissed and caressed.  

Cas turned and began to make his way slowly to a door off to the side, where Dean was pretty sure there was a rather nice bathroom. As he turned away, Dean felt his jaw go slack as he finally got a good look at Cas’s back and ass and there were two things he noticed.

Firstly, and most importantly, Castiel’s butt was even more amazing in the flesh than it was under clothes. Seriously, it was, without doubt, one of the best he’d ever seen. He wondered, briefly, if Cas ever bottomed because Dean would seriously have considered selling his soul for a chance to fuck Cas.

Secondly, he could finally see what the glimpses of black, that he’d seen peering over Cas’s shoulder last night, were.

Wings. It was wings.

Two enormous tattoos that rippled over the muscles in his back, all the way down his spine. The feathers were beautifully inked in black and grey, with touches of dark blue highlighting a couple of edges. They looked so lifelike that Dean immediately wanted to reach out to touch them, to run his fingers across and through them, caressing them softly.

But around the shoulders, there were dribbles and pools of deep crimson that seemed to be pouring from Castiel’s shoulders. Dean noticed that the wings weren’t just attached to his shoulders, they appeared to have been pulled through his flesh; as if they had ripped through the skin, splattering blood across the feathers and Castiel’s spine.

It was beautiful and horrifying all at once.  

Castiel had paused at the door, as if he knew Dean was watching him. He twisted his head round to look at Dean, a simmering heat in his eyes.

“I’m going to have my shower now. Goodbye Dean.” And he sauntered through the doorway, leaving Dean standing naked in the middle of the bedroom, clutching a pair of boxers in his hands.

A million thoughts seemed to rush through Dean’s head at once. But only one stuck with him and it wasn’t particularly coherent.

_Cas, shower, now._

All Dean’s ideas about fuck and leave crumbled faster than you could blink.

xxx

Castiel counted slowly under his breath, as he stepped into the bathroom and flicked the lights on.

_Three, two…_

And then he heard the other man striding across the carpet towards him. He smiled to himself as he made his way across to the shower.

He’d had the bathroom refurbished when he’d bought the apartment, taking out the very dated fixtures and tiling, totally gutting the room. The yellow and green décor had been replaced with dark grey tiles that covered the whole room, which was lit with soft lighting. There was a large tub on one side - which Castiel had a guilty habit of spending hours in – and a huge, walk in waterfall shower. It had two panels at the top which cascaded water, as well as additional side jets that could be turned on and off when desired. The water pressure was fantastic and Castiel found the heat and pressure combined made it a wonderful place to relax and unwind… as well as other things.

Not that he’d even put his fantasies of being with someone in his shower into practice. Very few of his liaisons ever stayed over and for some reason, he’d never really suggested it to Meg.

He switched on the water, feeling the blast of steam wash over him. He could hear Dean entering the room, pausing for a second to no doubt glance around, it was an impressive room after all. He waited and then felt strong arms wrapping around his waist, pulling him back against Dean’s muscled torso.

He let out a soft groan as Dean began kissing his way up his neck, licking and nibbling the soft skin and gently sucking on the pulse point below his ear.

“I thought you were leaving?” he managed to stammer out, eventually, as Dean licked the shell of his ear, running his hands up and down Castiel’s chest, before settling on his nipples. Another moan escaped his lips as Dean’s expert fingers went to work and the other man chuckled at Castiel’s response.

“Change of plan,” he muttered, “I’ve got some unfinished business here.” All Castiel could do was groan in response.

He pulled Dean into the shower, letting the hot water wash over them before pushing the taller man up against the tiled wall. They clashed together in a rough, sloppy kiss full of teeth and tongues and Dean groaned as Castiel pulled at his bottom lip. His hands began to explore, running up the smooth, wet expanses of Dean’s skin – desperate to continue what he’d started last night. What was this man doing to him? All he could feel was hot, pulsing desire coursing through his veins that left him unable to think straight.

He must have relaxed for a second too long because suddenly he found himself pressed up against the wall instead, Dean pressed against him, his hands on either side of his shoulders as he grinned slyly down at Cas.

“Ah, ah, ah Cas,” he whispered, his lips less than an inch from Castiel’s. “You had your fun last night, it’s my turn now.”

A tiny whimpering sound slipped from Castiel’s lips as he felt Dean’s erection nudging against his own. The very thought of Dean taking charge was sending tiny ripples of pleasure through him. He never let go, he always had to be in control. If you weren’t in control you were vulnerable… weak… worthless.

All such thoughts began to melt away as Dean worked his way down Cas’s body with his fingers and his tongue, seeming intent on eliciting as many noises from Cas as he possibly could.

Dean’s tongue flicked over the bud of his nipple as the taller man set to work biting, sucking and teasing the sensitive nubs – first one and then the other – in a way that nobody else had ever done before. Castiel leaned back against the tiles, any thoughts of resistance gone, his hands clenched by his sides as the new, delicious sensations washed over him like hot water. Dean worked lower and lower, kissing and licking and sucking – little bruises and red marks now forming over Castiel’s skin that mirrored the ones he’d given Dean last night. The thought of Dean marking him, showing the world what he’d done, even if nobody else could see, was dizzying and sent sparks dancing under Castiel’s skin.   

Dean sank to his knees on the tiled floor, groaning slightly. Castiel hoped to every God he’d ever thought could possibly exist that it was because Dean was now at the perfect height to wrap those gorgeous lips and exquisitely talented tongue around his cock, that was throbbing, almost painfully, with want. He sincerely hoped it was not because Dean was now kneeling on an uncomfortable tile floor.

“Look so good Cas,” Dean muttered, one hand pinning his hip to the wall and the other reaching out to gently caress Castiel’s cock, running his thumb over the head and then encircling the base, squeezing. The touch made him twitch and another groan ripped from his throat. Dean leant forward, his tongue flicking out to swipe across the sensitive, flushed head, lapping up a bead of precome that hadn’t yet been washed away by the pounding hot water. Castiel gasped at the suddenness of it, internally begging that Dean would do that again or perhaps, do more. He desperately wanted it to be the second option. A little satisfied moan came from Dean, “taste so good too.”  

“Please-” the word fell from Castiel’s lips before he could stop it, before he was even aware it was there. But there was no going back now… he had begged. Novak’s did not beg. Not now, not ever. They were calm, collected and controlled. He opened his mouth to say something else – anything. But his words caught in his throat as he felt Dean’s lips engulf him in hot, wet heat.

Castiel glanced down, mesmerised by the site before him. Dean looked up at him through long, dark lashes, his slick, swollen lips wrapped around Castiel’s cock. It was like every dirty fantasy he’d ever had coming true at once – which probably said something about his sex life, or more notably his recent lack of one.

Dean winked, sliding his tongue around Castiel, flicking over his slit and Castiel thought his knees might give out. Dean wasn’t just enthusiastic about sucking him, he was talented too. The perfect balance of suction and tongue as he found his rhythm, sliding up and down, taking as much as Castiel’s cock into his perfect mouth as he could – which Castiel noticed was pretty much all of it and didn’t that make things a thousand times hotter – as his hand stroked Castiel’s sack, pressing his fingers into the sensitive skin below them.  

“Fuck, Dean-” Castiel gasped, trying to get more air into his battered lungs. He could hardly speak but Dean seemed intent on pulling as much noise from his as possible and Castiel wasn’t even sure if he’d ever made half the noises he thought were coming out of his mouth. Cas ran his fingers through Dean’s sodden hair, using it to anchor himself and loving the way Dean groaned around him as he carded his fingers through it and gently tugged. Hot little vibrations danced along Cas’s shaft as Dean moaned again, eliciting more frantic, whimpering sounds from Castiel’s desperate body.

Cas could feel the familiar surges of warmth curling in his gut and he knew he wasn’t going to last. Dean seemed intent on pushing him right to the edge of the cliff as his slick mouth continued to work up and down, his tongue lapping up Castiel’s precome.

It was too much, it was all too much.

“Dean… fuck, Dean…I’m going… Dean!” Cas tried to warn him and Dean must have heard because he tightened his lips and sucked.

Castiel didn’t so much as fall into his orgasm but was thrown, headfirst over a cliff. Heat and fire coursed through him as he came, exploding into Dean’s mouth in a silent scream as Dean swallowed him down, drinking every last drop and milking him through it as Castiel felt his cock pulse into the tight heat.

His head fell back on the tiles as he gasped, his whole body shaking with the force of his release. When he finally managed to open his eyes after what seemed like forever, although it was probably no more than a minute, he saw Dean looking up at him – desire and what looked like smug-satisfaction dancing in his green eyes.

Castiel reached down and pulled Dean up, dragging him in for a crushing kiss and thrusting his tongue into the other man’s mouth, tasting his release in Dean. He was exhausted and at the same time, he had never felt more alive.

He traded lazy kisses with Dean as he rotated them, until Dean was flat against the wall, his body flush against Castiel’s.

Castiel smirked at him as he slid to his knees to return the favour.

xxx

 Sometime later, they emerged from the shower.

While most of Dean’s brain was currently unable to function due to the unbelievable blowjob he’d just received, the part that was still online was smugly reminding him what a good idea it had been not to leave. And for once, he had to agree.

He watched Castiel pad back into the bedroom; towel wrapped around his waist, skin still glistening from a few remaining droplets of water. He couldn’t quite put his finger on why, but the man was mesmerising. Sure, he was hot. Ridiculously, outrageously and dangerously so. But there was something else as well… something more?

Dean shook his head and pushed the thought from his mind. He hardly knew the man, this was no time to get sentimental. Remember Winchester: No Relationships. They’re just not worth it.

“Would you like breakfast?” asked Castiel, jolting Dean from his thoughts.

“Huh?”

“Breakfast? Would you like to stay for breakfast?” repeated Cas. “I realise you said you had to leave and I’ve probably made you terribly late for whatever you were going to do, but as you’re here, I wondered if you’d like something to eat?” There was a slight smirk curling around his lips as he teased. Sure his delivery was deadpan, but Dean knew Cas was making a dig at his incredibly pathetic attempts to leave this morning.

Castiel 2: Dean 0

“I’m sure I could find the time.” Castiel smiled and a tiny part of Dean melted. He didn’t think he’d seen anything so charming in his whole life. It was the first time he’d seen what must been Cas’s real smile, and it was beautiful – lighting up his whole face and Dean couldn’t help returning the gesture.

Dean began looking around for his clothes as he half watched Cas rummaging through his drawers, pulling out clean underwear, a faded t-shirt and dark jeans. Then Cas dropped his towel and Dean’s mission to acquire clothing was temporarily forgotten.

The guy was fuckin gorgeous. Sue him.

Did he have the energy for round three? Fuck it, he’d find the energy.

But Cas obviously hadn’t considered it, damnit, because he pulled on his clothes – although Dean did enjoy the way his tight boxers-briefs and jeans clung to the curve of his ass. That was going to be _very_ distracting…

Ok, maybe breakfast first… then round three. After all, Dean conceded, he needed to keep his energy levels up!

Dean glanced around for where he’d dropped the boxers before he got into the shower, picking them up and turning them over… hang on, these weren’t his… where the fuck were his clothes? He began searching round the room… no clothes. What the hell was going on?

“Cas?” he called, leaning his head out of the bedroom door. He could hear voices coming from another room in the apartment. “Cas?” Dean pulled his towel tighter around his waist and stepped out of the bedroom.

He’d not had much time, or willingness, to examine Cas’s house last night but the thought came back to him that surely the guy must be loaded. The apartment was largely open plan, with more floor to ceiling windows the overlooked the city, covering one wall. The whole thing was simply, but tastefully decorated – the word minimalism sprang to mind – but he did also notice a beautiful, dark-wooded grand piano in one corner near the windows and an entire wall of packed bookshelves.

He wound his way across the floor towards what he assumed was the kitchen. He could see the back of Castiel’s head, he was speaking to someone and if Dean was reading his body language right, which he probably was (you didn’t get to fuck a lot of people without being able to read them), Castiel was radiating both shock and fury.

There was a woman’s voice coming from the room too, it was slightly high pitched and it sounded very much like she was trying to explain herself… what the fuck was going on?

“Cas?” Dean said, stepping into view. The talking stopped and they both turned to look at him. Yep, Dean was right… Castiel looked like was about to murder someone… it was kinda hot… especially since the guy was so mild mannered… Dean wondered if he ever released that fury in the bedroom, that could be all kinds of fun!

“Doctor Winchester, good morning!” A peppy looking blonde woman appeared from behind Castiel, the smile on her lips not quite covering the distress in her eyes.

“Mornin’” He still wasn’t sure who the hell she was or why she’s in Cas’s kitchen and he tried to shoot Cas a look that conveyed these questions. Castiel’s face meanwhile, had settled into a resting bitchface to rival Sam’s.

“Dean. This is Becky Rosen. She’s my personal assistant.” He paused and Dean tried to process his words. _Personal Assistant._ Yeah – Cas has got to be fucking loaded. “But she still hasn’t finished explaining why she’s here.”

“Well,” Becky began, taking a deep breath, “your brother called me last night and said that you were having company round and I remembered that when I worked for Gabriel that he always liked me to make sure that his date’s clothes were clean for them and I always liked to make sure that there was breakfast and I know you’re not good at making sure you have plenty of groceries and I know you love those pastries from that little bakery down the street, so I figured that I’d get you some and I made sure that Doctor Winchester’s suit was cleaned in case he needed to leave early this morning.”

She said all of this very quickly, a beaming smile spreading across her face - she looked incredibly pleased with herself. She gestured to a large box of pastries on the kitchen counter and a bowl of fresh fruit that Dean hadn’t noticed before. There was also a whiff of fresh coffee curling into his nostrils. Ok, so this wasn’t quite what he’d expected when Cas had said breakfast but Dean can roll with this. Although, this was probably the weirdest morning after situation he’d ever been in…

“Becky,” Cas growled, his arms still folded across his chest, “what do you mean about Dean’s clothes?”

“I had them express cleaned.” She smiled, pulling a dark bag from behind the counter. “Don’t worry, I checked with the doorman about what time you came home and made sure I gave you a couple of hours. And I made sure the apartment was completed silent when I came in.” She turned and beamed at Dean. “You guys were, like, super cute all cuddled up together!”

Dean stared, feeling his mouth drop open. What. The. Actual. Fuck? Cuddled up together? Asleep? Super Cute?

No. No, no, no, no. NO!

Dean Winchester does not do cuddling or super cute. Especially not with one night stands. Even if they are ridiculously hot. And even if he may or may not actually quite enjoy cuddling, even though he would never, ever admit it – even under torture. But apparently his body doesn’t feel the same way and has quite happily betrayed him and snuggled (SNUGGLED!) up to Cas during the night. Bastard body!

He opened his mouth to say something but Cas got there first and his voice was dripping with anger, coming out as more of a growl that really, really should not be as hot as it actually is.

“Do you mean to say, Miss Rosen, that you came into my apartment while I was asleep, into my bedroom no less, to collect Dean’s clothes because my brother cannot keep his mouth shut?”

“Yes,” squeaked Becky, “he insisted, and it’s what I’ve always done.”

Dean feels a little sorry for her then. She’s only doing what she’s been told but wow, Cas’s brothers sound like interfering dicks. Still, at least he has clean clothes and free food – he’ll still be walk of shaming but at least it won’t look like it.

He glanced across at Cas to see his reaction and noticed that Cas is standing with his eyes shut, pinching the bridge of his nose with one hand, an exasperated look on his face.

“Very well, Miss Rosen, as you were simply following instructions I will forgive you. But I will be having words with my brother – it was Balthazar wasn’t it?” Becky nodded enthusiastically, her smile returning. Cas looked down at her, his expression relaxing. “Thank you for your concern and for bringing us breakfast. You were right, I do like these pastries. It was… considerate of you, but I’d ask you not to do it again, not matter what you are told – do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Good, then I will see you on Monday morning.” Becky nodded again and turned to go, picking up her handbag and making her way over to the front door.

“I will. Have a good weekend Mr Novak.”

Dean watched her go and as the door clicked behind her, he turned to look at Cas who had a slightly horrified look spreading across his face. Becky’s words replayed instantly in Dean’s head on a quick looping repeat and within thirty seconds the force of them hit him like a ton of bricks.

Holy fuck: Novak?

Novak?

As in relation of the stupidly-rich-politician-and-businessman Michael Novak?

As in rumoured crime-family Novak?

Dean knew the allegations, they’ve floated round for years; that the Novak family might not be as squeaky clean as they’re made out to be. But they’re just rumours, right? He’d have no idea about them if Sam, bloody Sam, hadn’t accidently mentioned that Michael Novak is the one guy he’d like to see in jail…

And now he’s slept with one of them?

Holy fucking shit he’s dead.

What the hell is he supposed to do now? His brain wasn’t working and suddenly he was very aware that his brother works for the FBI – the ultimate enemy of all crime families – and sure it’s not like Cas knows, but you can never be sure…

And Cas was just staring at him. He looked ready to kill and Dean knew that while ten minutes ago that look was incredibly hot, now it’s a little frightening… and maybe still hot but dammit that’s not what he needs right now.

Finally he managed to spit some words out, “Novak? You’re a fucking Novak?”

Cas looked at his again, his head tilting to one side, staring at him with those piercing blue eyes that Dean was sure could see right down to his soul.

“Yes… I am. Is that a problem?”

“Novak! Fucking Novak! You lied to me!”

“Possibly,” shrugged Cas and that made Dean even angrier. “But it’s not important.”

“You said it was Collins.” spat Dean.

“It is. Technically Castiel Collins is a legal name.”

“You lied to me.”

“True but you can’t tell me you’re completely honest with all your one-night stands Dean?” There was truth in this, probably more than Dean would like to admit but fuck if he’s going to. The accusation made his face burn and anger surge.

“This isn’t about me you bastard.” He stepped closer, his tone dropping.

“Oh really,” Cas’s tone is low and growling, “then what is it about? Tell me Dean does my name matter than much?”

“It’s the fucking principle of the matter.” Dean added, even though it really, really wasn’t. They were only a couple of inches from each other now and the air was thick with tension, anger rolling off of them.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realise one night together meant we were in a relationship.”

“Yeah, like I’d ever want to date you, asshole.”

“Really?” There was a dangerous look in Castiel’s eyes now and Dean suddenly realises he was only wearing a towel and really, he’s pretty much buck ass nude in the middle of Cas’s apartment. He flicked his tongue out to wet his lips, swallowing to try and moisten his very dry throat.

“Yeah, I don’t date lying bastards like you.”

“Me neither,” growled Cas, his breath hot against Dean’s ear and he couldn’t help it that a tiny shiver ran through him or the embarrassing whine that escapes his lips. “I just fuck them.”

He reached in a pulled off Dean’s towel and the pair of them collided in a clash of teeth and tongues.


	6. Forty Five Percent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huzzah I managed to get another chapter written despite everything going on! So here, please enjoy this as a day early happy birthday (and wedding day) present from me! If I don't respond to comments for a while, I promise I'll get there eventually, I've just got to get married first! 
> 
> A/N: Warnings in this chapter for violence, homophobic language, injuries/death. Speech in italics inside <> indicates Russian being spoken.

The warehouse was freezing, even by Castiel’s standards. He grumbled to himself as he pulled his coat closer around him, shoving his hands deeper in the pockets and regretting that he hadn’t pulled something warmer out of the cupboard.

He was tempted to wait in the car, but that was never a sensible idea because you were blind to so much going on around you. You couldn’t hear and you couldn’t see; the perfect target for an ambush. So now he and Uriel were stuck waiting out in the cold for Gabriel and the Russians.

Uriel seemed unmoved by the cold, simply standing solid and silently by the door of the Mercedes. Watching, waiting, listening. He did not speak. He never did unless he was answering a question. Perhaps it was because it was what his instructions had been, or perhaps it was because Castiel was such bad company that the man felt no desire to speak to him.

Castiel’s hands itched again. He’d managed two days without a cigarette and his patience was wearing excruciatingly thin. Some small part of his brain had not replaced his last packet and while he was partially grateful for this and the removal of temptation, he was not currently feeling particularly gracious.

His mood was souring with every moment that Michael forced him to spend out here in the bitter cold. His eldest brother had called him on Sunday evening, out of the blue, cancelling their normal Monday meeting and instead instructing him and Gabriel to meet with the Russians instead. Apparently, they were taking issue with the Novak family methods or some shit. Castiel had stopped listening when he realised what Michael truly meant, feeling his stomach drop. It was the traditional Novak family solution: either the Russians fall in line or they don’t. And if they didn’t… well, all Castiel had to do was simply remove the problem.

He’d done it before.

And he’d probably do it again.

But he still didn’t like the idea of it. He never had. But now? Now, he was to numb to it to even notice.

Not for the first time, he wished his life was different. No Novak family name. No guns. No Russians. No family honour. No duty. No orders.

No killing.

Maybe then Dean wouldn’t have left.

Not that Castiel had blamed him for the way he’d reacted. He’d probably have done the same if the situation was reversed.

He touched the purple bruises under the collar of his shirt absent-mindedly as the memory of what had happened when Becky had left flooded his brain. They’d collided in an ugly, hot mess of teeth and tongues and clawing fingers. It had been rough and heated and filthy; leaving each of them covered in sprawling hickeys and scratches and sweat. Dean had teased him, almost tormenting, as Castiel fucked him until Castiel left him a whimpering, begging mess on the sheets, whispering obscene words in his ear and both of them fell, screaming, into their releases.

Afterwards Dean had put on his clean clothes and left without another glance. Castiel had opened a bottle of scotch and his last packet of cigarettes and cursed the name Novak until he passed out on the couch.

It wasn’t a healthy coping mechanism and he knew it. But he didn’t know what else to do. He’d toyed with going to the hospital but he seemed to remember that Dean had mentioned, in passing, that he wasn’t working this weekend. A large part of him was utterly convinced that Dean never wanted to see him again, otherwise he’d have left a number, and Castiel had the nagging feeling that if he showed up, unannounced at the hospital it wouldn’t be a pleasant experience. The last thing he wanted was to cause a scene.

Castiel’s losses of temper were few and far between but they were regarded in the family as somewhat legendary. It was the reason his brothers never picked physical fights with him anymore. 

All the same, he wanted one more chance.

It was ridiculous really. A hopeless pipe dream to be locked away like all the others. Dean was a one-night stand, to be enjoyed, remembered fondly and eventually forgotten. Because what Castiel wanted was never part of the equation.

The sound of approaching cars snapped him from his self-indulgent revelry and he watched the identical black Mercedes pull up alongside.

Out of the first climbed Gabriel, wearing an expression of exasperation along with his thick coat and suit. With him there was another tall, dark man in a dark suit; Raphael, Uriel’s cousin and Novak hitman. He said nothing, nodding in greeting to his cousin and taking up a post alongside him. Five more men in dark suits disembarked silently from the other car to join them, forming, what even Castiel had to admit was, an impressive line of muscle.

Gabriel smirked at his brother, attempting to greet him with a hug which Castiel half-heartedly returned. His back was still sore from where Dean had repeatedly raked his nails across the skin.

“What-ho little brother! How the fuck did we get stuck with this?” Gabriel’s face crinkled into an attempted grin but his tone was still sour.

“You’re asking the wrong brother.” chuckled Castiel. “I’m just the one you get stuck with.”

“Touché. And to think, I could be at home with a very naked woman right now.” Gabriel sighed, casting a sad look at Castiel as if expecting some sympathy. When Castiel ignored him he continued, “remind me why I’m here again.”

“The Russians are getting pissy again,” Castiel grumbled, “something about territories and shipments or some bullshit. And you’re here because we need to show strength as a family but apparently we’re the _trustworthy_ ones - I stopped listening after a while.”   

“Wow, apparently even you have your limits!”

“Apparently so.” Castiel smirked, “although I’m not stupid enough to turn Michael down.”

“I don’t think anybody’s stupid enough to do that.”

“Except the Russians.” They stood in silence for a while. Castiel contemplated asking Gabriel if he had any cigarettes, twitching in his skin at a rustle of a wrapper before realised his brother was just unwrapping some god-awful candy bar. Gabriel shot him a funny look which Castiel ignored, checking his watch again because as usual the Russians were running late. It was their usual tactic and it was more annoying than anything else. He turned to ask Gabriel something when he noted the sly grin stretching across his brother’s face.

“What are you looking at?” he snapped but Gabriel’s shit-eating grin just expanded.

“Nothing… nothing… I was just wondering when you had your encounter with a vampire.” Gabe smirked. Castiel smacked his hand to his neck and realised his collar had settled lower, exposing one of Dean’s finer handiworks. Gabriel laughed, stepping closer to pull the collar down, exposing the line that snaked their way down Cas’s collarbone and chest, casually batting away Castiel’s protesting arms.

“Wow Cassie, look at these. Someone had some fun. I didn’t realise little Meg could be so possessive.” Castiel felt his face going red as he fought to regain his composure.

“It wasn’t Meg.” He muttered and regretted the words instantly.

“Oh really?” said Gabriel, dragging the syllables out. “Do mine ears deceive me or has baby Cassie been having freaky, filthy sex with some delightful stranger?!”

“None of your damn business.” Castiel snapped again, realising that this was the worst thing to say because not only had he now confirmed it but now Gabriel would want to know everything and belligerent was his brother’s preferred style of questioning.

“But it is my business little brother,” added Gabriel, attempting some sort of ridiculous puppy dog look, which was a strange combination with the scruffy beard he was currently sporting. “I have to make sure that you don’t get hurt.” Castiel shot him a withering look. Gabriel’s care for his welfare often extended as far as it was useful to him – for blackmail or teasing purposes – whether he actually cared or not was another matter entirely. Gabriel sighed and shrugged, “well if you don’t want to tell me, it doesn’t matter, I’m sure Becky knows. And I’m sure she’ll be dying to tell me, she does love a cute story.”

“You’re such an asshole.”

“I know but-”

The rumbling of another approaching vehicle silenced Gabriel and both focused their attention on the approached SUVs.

“Bollocks,” muttered Gabriel. “Guess we’ll continue this later Cassie.” He stood up straighter and glanced at the line of Novak muscle as the cars drew closer. “OK boys, be ready to go. Nobody moves unless instructed or either myself or Castiel are in danger.” The line of muscle snapped to attention, Uriel and Raphael forming an intimidating pair of bookends either side of the Novak brothers.

Castiel stood silently, slightly forward of Gabriel. He was the one who spoke Russian which is why he was here. Gabriel understood a little, more than he let on anyway, having learnt from one of his previous girlfriends. They worked well as a team, albeit a strange one for a meeting like this. A lawyer and an accountant didn’t sound like the most threatening opponents and the pair of them certainly didn’t look as intimidating as others.

But then again, that was the point.

The SUVs pulled up opposite them and Castiel watched as four men climbed out, keeping their eyes on the Novak line-up. Castiel recognised all of them, they were men he’d dealt with before. In the centre were the Vasiliev twins, Alexi and Anatoly. Identical in every way, from their pale hair and blue eyes to their dark suits and expressions of distain. Castiel had heard rumours of the twins before he’d met them; they were powerful figures in the Russian Mafia long before he’d been dealing with them. Their bloodlust and business acumen were legendary as was their hatred of Michael Novak. Still, somehow, they’d agreed to work with him due largely, Balthazar had added, to Michael’s supposed possession of photos of them together.

No amount of brute strength would supress that. 

They’d bought with them their standard crew of meat headed muscle, in the form of the heavily tattooed gangbanger, Grigory Kuznetsov, and the sneering sniper, Iosif Popov. Castiel despised them and given his way, he’d quite happily tell Uriel to dispose of both of them in a heartbeat.

_< Mr Novak,>_ said one of the twins, probably Alexi, he usually spoke most, _< how nice to see you and your brother again_.> It was a pleasantry and nothing more, which Castiel acknowledged with a twitch of his head.

< _Alexi, Anatoly – it’s been a while. > _He paused a second, staring at them. Nobody moved.

_< We were hoping to speak to your brother.> _Alexi continued, his tone cold.

_< I apologise. My brother was unavailable this evening but he sends his regards. He is… pleased that you have agreed to continue your partnership with Novak Enterprises.>_

Alexi sneered. _< Pleased? I am not pleased Mr Novak. No. Not at all.> _

_< I am surprised to hear that, Alexi. My brother assumed that you would have no complaints given the generous nature of our agreement with you.> _

_< I would hardly call it generous!> _snapped Anatoly, stepping forward towards Castiel. Alexi placed a hand on his brother’s chest. _< Your brother treats us like fucking dogs. We get nothing but scraps and orders.>_

Castiel said nothing, keeping his face impassive, despite his amusement that the Russian could be so easily riled. He watched as Alexi muttered something to his brother, his hand still firmly placed on his chest, his face tucked close to his twin’s.

_< I apologise for my brother’s outburst, Mr Novak. But it’s the truth.> _Alexi said, fixing his cold gaze once again on Castiel. _< We’re expected to do more and more work for less money. Our territories are getting smaller and Novak Enterprises are squeezing us for every fucking penny we make. You don’t respect us. You treat us like shit and expect us to be grateful.> _

_< I see.> _

_< I don’t give a fuck what you see. I’m telling you now, we’re not putting up with this shit anymore.> _Alexi continued, trying to keep his voice level. His brother twitched beside him, desperate to speak. _< We want seventy percent.>_

Behind him, Gabriel snorted. “Yeah right, seventy percent my ass.”

“Gabriel,” hissed Castiel, “be silent.” He looked at the Vasiliev’s as if considering their proposal. _< Seventy is quite a rise from the forty you receive now, which is exceptionally generous for what you do. I will remind you that you are not the only source of weaponry in this city and I’m certain the Irish would be quite happy to undercut you for a forty percent share of the profits. And as for the girls… well, I know that my brother hasn’t been happy with the last few you’ve provided. Far too sickly and untalented. Nobody in the whole state wants to let one of your whores near their cock and I can’t say I’m surprised. We’ve been very kind to you and your friends so far Alexi… I wouldn’t push my luck if I were you.> _

This got the response he was hoping for and he watched the muscles twitching in the brother’s faces. Castiel knew he was playing a dangerous game though. The Vasiliev’s were far more of the shoot first, ask questions later type of people – especially when they weren’t getting their way. But Castiel had been playing this game long enough to know the right moves… it was like chess and he was closing in on checkmate.

It didn’t matter whether what he said was the truth or not, as long as it got Michael what he wanted. In truth, Lucifer liked the Russian girls that he occasionally bought from Anatoly – they were cheap, frightened and did as they were told. Castiel had met one or two before; skinny, broken little things with stuttered English and staring eyes. Their plight should break his heart, and it did in a way… he was just too numb to do anything about it.

Alexi was watching him now. Castiel could see the little cogs turning in his skull as he tried to work out whether Castiel was telling him the truth, adding up what he knew about the Irish and calculating if he was being played. Whatever the Russian said next would determine the outcome of the meeting. Castiel wondered idly if Alexi realised just how high the stakes were.

_< You’re lying,> _he said, finally.

_< Are you sure Alexi?> _asked Castiel, watching a flicker of uncertainty dance across the Russian’s face. _< Do you want to take that risk?>_

There was silence. It seemed to go on for eternity.                           

Then the Russian shook his head. _< No, Mr Novak.> _

Checkmate.

_< Good. I am pleased to hear it.> _And he was. It meant it was over, all he had to do was throw in the incentive to keep them in line. _< However, since you have been such an asset to the Novak family over the past few years, we would like to offer you a reward.> _He watched the interest peak on the twin’s faces.

_< A reward?> _muttered Anatoly, _< for what?> _

_< For your dedicated service Anatoly. You, your brother and your employees are important to us. Therefore, we will be upping your percentage to forty-five and backdating to the start of November as a gesture of goodwill. I trust this will be satisfactory.>_

_< Yes Mr Novak. Your offer is very generous.> _Alexi said quickly, before his brother could speak. _< We accept.>_

_< Good. My brother will be glad to hear it.> _he paused, more for affect than anything else. _< Now, is there anything else you wish to discuss?> _

Alexi paused, clearly considering his options. However, if he wanted to say anything he clearly chose not to and the warning look he directed at his brother was clearly meant to dissuade him from opening his mouth.

_< Good. We’ll be in touch.>_ said Castiel, effectively dismissing them. All he had to do now was wait for them to leave and he could breathe easy again. Behind him, he could hear Gabriel shuffling impatiently.

He watched at the twins murmured something together that he couldn’t quite catch, then Anatoly gestured at their muscle guard, indicating it was time to leave. As Anatoly turned, Grigory fell into step behind him, a clearly sneering look wrinkling his face.

_< …why…taking orders from… fag…> _broken snippets of Grigory’s disdainful words pierced Castiel’s ears. He felt himself twitch. Beside him, he could feel Gabriel bristling. His brother’s Russian might not be business good but it was insult aware. _< …cocksucking bastard…> _Grigory continued, unaware he’d been heard.

The tiny thread of Castiel’s stretched patience snapped.

He stepped forward, already reaching for the 9mm in his jacket. _< What did you call me?> _he growled, levelling the gun at the back of Grigory’s head.

The Russian’s whipped round, each of them pulling out their own weapons at the sight of Castiel’s and behind him he heard the rustling and clicking of the Novak line producing their own. Gabriel stepped up beside him, his own .45 pointing directly at Anatoly’s face.

_< Now, now Mr Novak… I’m sure this is all a misunderstanding.> _said Alexi, casually trying to smooth the situation over. He knew they were all massively outnumbered and while everybody in Alexi’s employment was fast, the Novak’s were faster. _< Grigory’s comments were not meant to offend.>_

Gabriel laughed, _< not meant to offend? What were they meant to do?>. _Alexi’s face was steady but he was clearly rattled. Gabriel had never spoken to him in Russian before and he seemed unnerved that Castiel was not the only Novak who understood him.

_< He meant no insult.>_

_< Really?> _asked Castiel, _< because I’m certain that calling one of your employers a ‘cocksucking bastard’ counts as an insult.> _He hadn’t taken his eye off Grigory, who was watching him carefully, his face a delicate shade of puce. _< Well Grigory, did you mean to insult me?>_

_< So what if I did? You’re just another cocksucking American bastard. Why the fuck should we take orders from you?> _He steps closer, shrugging off Alexi and Anatoly’s arms as they attempt to restrain him. Ignoring Iosif’s quiet growls that order calm. _ <Your brother may be a dick but at least he’s a man. Not some pansy-ass faggot like you-_

Castiel snaps and puts a bullet through the man’s skull.

Grigory Kuznetsov is dead before he hits the ground.

xxx

The girl is dying.

That’s the one thing Dean is sure of.

That and the fact he can do nothing about it. No matter what he tries.

He’d been walking back from the store when the accident had happened in front of him. A truck skidded on a stray patch of ice, barrelling into three waiting cars who in turn had taken out several pedestrians. It might have been late at night but it was the night before Thanksgiving so there were people everywhere.

He’d heard the screaming, the screeching of breaks, the devastating scrape and crushing of metal. He’d dropped his groceries and ran. That was the thing about being a doctor – he always needed to help.

But he had no tools, no kit, nothing but his brain and the clothes on his back.

“Call 911,” he’d shouted at waiting onlookers, “and start checking people but don’t touch anyone unless you are a trained medical professional. If they’re screaming, they’re alive.”

He’d woven his way through the devastation. Fuck it was a mess. Thank God there were already people on site. One or two he recognised from the hospital. A nurse here… another doctor there…

He began to help; checking pulses, looking at injuries, mentally cataloguing a list of people most in need for when the paramedics showed up. Noting who was already dead.

The girl is lying in the road. It’s not clear if she was a pedestrian or if she’d been thrown from a car or if she’d climbed out.

She’s not making any noise but her breathing is rapid and shallow and there’s blood coming from somewhere but fuck if he can tell. She’s covered in lacerations and it’s very obvious that at least her leg is broken, although crushed is probably a better word, and Dean’s betting that she’s suffering from massive internal bleeding and right now that’s his biggest problem.

But he knows he can’t do anything. And that’s the worst part.

Her skin is pale and her eyes are glassy but they track his movement as he kneels down in the road, trying to avoid the millions of shards of glass. A tiny moan of pain escapes her lips suggesting that she’s still conscious and that’s the kicker. How much pain is she in right now?

“Hey darlin’, can you hear me?” he asks, trying to keep his voice calm and soothing. He’s done enough time on trauma wards and in the ER to know how to respond so it’s instinctual now, even if it doesn’t feel like it. She tries to move but he stops her gently. “It’s okay sweetheart just stay still ok, my name is Dean and I’m a doctor. I’m here to help you while we wait for an ambulance, ok. I just need you to listen to my voice ok?”

“Ok…” her voice is soft and shaky and Dean can’t even believe she’s able to speak or that she’s even conscious. But now he just has to try and keep her that way because if she slips into unconsciousness in her state, then there’s a damned good chance that she’s never coming out.

“Can you tell me your name?”

“Kayla.”

“Ok Kayla. You’re doing great, the paramedics will be here any moment and I need you to stay awake so you can talk to them.”

“Ok… is my aunt…she…”

“Was your aunt here with you?” Dean says, offering her a little smile of encouragement. Talking will keep her awake.

“Yeah… she was…in the car… picking me up…”

“Are you visiting for the holidays?” she gives a tiny nod, the exertion at having spoken seeming to have wiped her out for a moment and Dean’s terrified that she’s slipping away. He looks at her again and takes in just how young she really is. She can’t be more than seventeen or eighteen. She’s just a fucking kid and now she’s going to die in the middle of the road on the night before Thanksgiving. “That’s great. I’m really lucky this year because my little brother now lives here and I get to see him for Thanksgiving because we’re both off work. I’m hoping he remembers to make me pie…” and off he goes, pouring out stupid, pointless crap in an effort to keep her engaged. He can hear the sirens in the background but he knows it’s going to be too late because her eyes keep closing and there’s nothing he can do.

“Am I…. gonna…” Kayla manages to spit out, coughing a little blood and wincing, a mass of tears forming in her eyes. And when Dean looks at them, all he can see is an ocean of blue surrounded by thick dark lashes.

_Cas_.

And he knows, fuck it, he knows this is not the time or the place to think of Cas and what he did to him. But that ocean of blue is threatening to swallow him whole and it takes him a second to realise he never answered her question.

“No Kayla, you’re not gonna die. I promise, everything’s gonna be ok, and I never break my promises. Ever. Ok?”

“Ok,” she whispers but he doesn’t know if she believes him.

The sirens are closer now and Dean can hear the clamouring of the crowd and the shouts of the paramedics and the fire crew and the cops. But he doesn’t move. He reaches out and clasps Kayla’s hand, squeezing the cool flesh tightly, willing her to grasp it back.

“C’mon Kayla, stay with me, it’s ok, stay with me.”

But by the time the paramedics arrive, it’s too late. She’s gone. And Dean feels hollow inside.

xxx

He rode to the hospital in one of the ambulances. It might be his night off but he still wanted to go. He still wanted to help.

When he arrived, Benny was there. He said nothing but he gestured to Dean and they sat on a row of plastic chairs. Dean put his head between his hands, staring at a blank spot on the wall.

“I’ve got your girl,” Benny said quietly.

“Kayla?”

“Yeah. I promise I’ll take care of her.”

It was a stupid thing to say, a stupid thing to promise. Kayla is dead and Benny needs to find out why. He shouldn’t be grateful for Benny’s arbitrary kindness, but it helps. Just a tiny bit.

“Thanks, man.”

“No worries. I think Jo’s got her aunt in surgery but I don’t think it was looking good.”

They sat for a while before Benny had to get back to work. Dean knew he should go home, go to Sam’s, go somewhere – but he doesn’t want to. Instead he sat on the hard orange chair and thought of Kayla and her massive blue eyes and the hurt and fear he’d seen there.

And he thinks of Cas.

He doesn’t know why. It’s stupid really. Really fucking stupid. The guy was a lying asshole and a jerk and it would be so much better if he could forget all about him.

Except that he really wasn’t, not really. Dean knows he needs to stop using that as an excuse because it’s the most fucking hypocritical thing he’s ever done. How many times has he lied to men and women to get into their pants? Truthfully… he doesn’t know… and right now it stings because he realises that, for the first time (that he knows or at least cares about anyway), he was the one being lied to.

The worst thing about it, is that that Cas probably had a damn good reason for not telling him. He could have been upfront, boastful even, but he wasn’t. Cas was everything you wouldn’t expect some mobster to be. Heck, he’d had Dean totally fooled. He probably could have told Dean and he would have laughed and said, “yeah right Cas, and I’m the President.”

It’s a dawning realisation that makes a little lightbulb flicker in Dean’s mind. Maybe he was pissed about being lied to because this time, it hurt. It actually hurt. For the first time in a very, very long time it was possible that maybe, just maybe there could have been something more there.

Because Cas; shy, awkward, dorky, endearing and hot-as-fuck Cas was different. With his terrible flirting skills and his ridiculous trench coat and interfering brothers and an assistant with no boundaries and beautiful blue eyes that stare straight into Dean’s soul. The sort of man who visits strangers in hospital and pays their bills, who sends thank you gifts to the nurses, who owns more books than most libraries, who fucked Dean into the mattress and then asked him to stay the night in his stupidly formal way and spooned him while they slept and offered to make him breakfast.  

Who had been crawling under Dean’s skin from day one and seems to have settled there, regardless of what Dean says or does.

And yeah, maybe Dean has royally fucked it up this time. Nuked the whole thing before it even got started. Good job Winchester. Still, he could at least try. One thing you could say with certainty about Dean Winchester is that he’s a stubborn son of a bitch. And he never backs down.

Dean took a deep breath and marched out of the hospital.


	7. Two-Thirds of a Pie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow guys I am so sorry this took so long... life massively got in the way! I got married, started a new job and had to write my thesis but it is all done (huzzah) and so I can return to the writing life.

Despite his best intentions, Dean didn’t get very far. Not even out of the front doors to be exact. As soon as he’d stepped near them, a commanding voice called his name from somewhere behind him.

“Winchester.”

Chief of Medicine Jody Mills was striding across the entrance hall wearing her best pissed off mom face, complete with raised eyebrow that demanded an answer. Although what the question was, Dean wasn’t completely sure.

“Where the hell have you been? I’ve been trying to get hold of you for nearly an hour!”

“Sorry, I came in with a patient…” he trailed off, surprising himself at his sudden onset of quietness. Jody’s expression changed slightly, a glimmer of understanding there.

“That’s partly why I was trying to get hold of you – we’ve had two major incidents this evening and we need all hands-on deck. I know you’re not down to work but since you’re here, you mind scrubbing up and pitching in?”

“Course not.” He answered, shooting her a smile. He knew it was a request, but you didn’t turn down Jody. Not if you wanted your life to be pleasant. Sure, she was one of the best doctors (and bosses) he’d ever worked for but she was tough too. She gave a hundred percent and demanded nothing less in return.

“Alright then. We’ve got another ambulance coming in in five and I need you down here when they arrive.” She shot him a look with raised eyebrows that had him scurrying off to his locker to get changed. It was the same look that Ellen used to use on him.

He sighed as he shoved his clothes into the metal box, grumbling slightly to himself as he watched his plans for the evening go flying out of the window. He shoved his phone into his pocket before heading back to the lobby to consult the carnage.

xxx

Over the ensuing hours Dean didn’t have time to do anything except think about the task at hand. Two major road traffic accidents added up to a hell of a lot of work and Dean thanked any God that might have been listening that Jo was the trauma surgeon on call because it made life so much easier (in a horrible way).

By the time he had a chance to breathe again, the first thing he did was attempt to grab a cup of coffee and a snack. He couldn’t actually remember the last time he’d eaten anything, it was probably yesterday afternoon. It was definitely before he’d gone out for groceries - his kitchen’s lack of edible food had been the reason for the quick stop. That and he’d really, really wanted mac and cheese.

The clock on the breakroom wall read 4.20am and Dean had to blink a few times just to make sure he was reading it right. Four in the morning? Jesus where the fuck had the night gone? Now he’d sat down, he was so bone tired he just wanted to curl up across these horribly uncomfortable padded chairs and sleep for as long as physically possible.

A thought slid lazily into his tired mind and he realised with a grumbled curse that it’s now bloody Thanksgiving and he was supposed to be having lunch with Sam and Jess before coming back here tonight. Well, that was now off the table. Maybe if he grouched to Sam enough then the pair of them would save him some leftovers, or at least bring him pie. He’d threaten them both under pain of, something or other, that there had to be pie.

He was just starting to feel his eyelids droop a little, the piss poor excuse for hospital coffee not quite kicking in yet, when his pager went into action, the tinny alarm screeching at him until he fumbled around enough to pull it to eye level.

Dean read the small line of text a couple of times, blinking stupidly at the ugly green screen until it sunk in, before groaning as he pulled himself upright. He’d only been sat down for fifteen minutes but it had been the biggest mistake of his evening. His muscles and bones ached as he resumed standing, telling him immediately that they were not fucking impressed with the abuse he was heaping on them.

Fuck, he was only thirty, when did he start to feel like such an old man?

Muttering darkly to himself, he strode off down the hospital corridors and back into the chaos.

At 6.30am Jody cornered him and told him to go home. She’d asked him casually what his plans had been for Thanksgiving and for a moment, Dean wondered if she’d been considering giving him the night off in exchange for the bitch of an extra shift he’d just pulled. But no, apparently not! She’d just clapped him on the shoulder, told him to get some sleep and she’d see him at seven this evening.

Bollocks.

Things got even worse when Dean realised he hadn’t even bought Baby to work with him and now he either needed to walk home, get a cab or find a bus – none of which sounded fun right now. Dammit he just wanted to crawl into bed, sleep and then eat his entire weight in turkey and pie, was that too much to ask for fucking once? But since the last one was probably off the table for today, especially since he refused to eat shitty hospital food, then he’d have to make do with the first two.

Dean knew he’d have to call Sam and cancel. Knowing his stupid, health freak of a brother he’d already be up and around, probably going for a jog or some shit! Dean shuddered at the thought. Who the fuck would get up at stupid o’clock in the morning to go for a run (a run!) of all things on their day off? Health nuts and moose men that’s who.  

There were no cabs outside the hospital and Dean couldn’t be asked to wait around for one. It wouldn’t take him too long to walk back, maybe an hour or so, and hey what was another hour on his feet?

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialled Sam’s number. It rang a couple of times before going to voicemail, something that never, ever happened if Sam was up. Dean figured he was probably still in bed, lazy asshole. He hung up. He wasn’t going to leave a message. Sam probably wouldn’t listen to it anyway.

Stupid Sam! Stupid accidents! Stupid extra night shift! Stupid people! Stupid, stupid, stupid!!

God why was everything such a mess?

He stuck his hands in his pockets, muttering darkly to himself as he stomped along the sidewalk. This time of day the city was usually well on its way to life, with people heading out to work or school or wherever else they go first thing in the morning. But as today was Thanksgiving, the place was pretty deserted, just the odd bus and few cars and people out on early morning coffee runs. Dean supposed it would get busier later with people going out to visit family.

He wondered what Cas did for Thanksgiving.

Dean knew he had brothers, he’d mentioned them that night at The Garden, but that didn’t mean they were close. Still Dean supposed, if he worked for the family business, Godfather style, they probably all got along well enough.

His thoughts turned to Castiel again and he remembered his original idea to go and find Cas last night and admit he’d been an asshole. That he’d made a mistake and would there be any chance of Cas giving him another chance.

Except in the cold, pale morning light, Dean realised that this was a pretty damn stupid plan because, for starters, he couldn’t even remember where the fuck Cas lived. Sure he’d been there once, but that was it and he definitely hadn’t been paying attention when Cas had given the cab driver his address. And when he left? Well he’d been too mad to even look around, all his thoughts had been on finding a cab and getting away from the man and his stupidly beautiful apartment as soon as possible.

So… a new plan was required.

There was just a tiny, insignificant detail that Dean had to contend with: he had absolutely no fucking clue how to find Cas. He had no address, no place of work and no phone number. All he had was a mental picture and a whole lot of, generally, awesome memories.

Maybe he could get Charlie to hack the hospital records? He was pretty sure Cas would have left a number on Anna’s paperwork. Although, even he had to admit that that probably came across a tiny bit creepy-stalker-ish instead of romantic.

Eurgh… did he really just use the term romantic? Jesus Winchester you are in too fucking deep already!

The blaring noise of AC/DC de-railed Dean’s thought process and he pulled his phone out to see Sam’s name flashing across the screen.

“What do you want?” he asked, in lieu of a greeting.

“Errr, just returning your call. Jeez, who pissed you off this morning? It’s not even seven thirty… scratch that, what are you even doing up this early?”

Dean sighed, running one hand through his hair. “I just finished at the hospital… I got called in last night, there were some pretty major accidents and everything just went to shit…” That’s all he needs to say really, Sam will figure out the rest, he’s a smart kid.

“Shit Dean, that’s awful… everyone ok?” Sam’s voice was hesitant. He already knew the answer but he had to ask, Dean knew that, it was an agreement they had going back several years. Dean had lost one too many patients and began to think the answer to everything lay at the bottom of a bottle… there had even been days he hadn’t gotten out of bed.

“No…” Dean said, softly. “I, er, I lost a little girl… well she was, what, seventeen I think? That was before I even got to the hospital… but her aunt’s stable so that’s good I guess…”

It was a promise he’d made to Sam. He’d always tell him when he lost someone, whether he liked it or not. Sam was the only person in his life who seemed to understand, even if it was only a little… he’d lost a partner before he met Jess.

“Are you ok?” Sam’s voice was calm, measured even.

“Not really but I will be. Saved a couple of others so I guess that’s something.”

“You can’t save everyone Dean.”

“I know…” Dean’s voice trailed off, unsure what to say next. Thank God for Sam though, he always knew what to say.

“Look, go home, get some rest… you’re in tonight right?”

“Yeah and tomorrow too.”

“Ok, well Jess and I will fix you up some leftovers and I’ll drop them off at your apartment and then we’ll do another Thanksgiving dinner, just text me your shifts. I’ll even ask Jess to make another pie.”

“Sounds great Sam.” And it did, it really did. “Hey, ask Jess if she’ll make pecan?”

“Sure.”

They chatted for a little longer, while Dean continued his walk home, avoiding topics like the hospital. Instead they talked about Christmas and football and Charlie’s new battle tactics, which Dean may or may not have pinched from Lord of the Rings. He was still chatting to his brother when he reached his apartment. He wasn’t even sure how it had happened.

When he finally stumbled into bed, twenty minutes later, he didn’t feel quite as bad as when he’d left the hospital.

xxx

The Garden was quiet on Monday evening.

True, there were still quite a few people here, meeting friends or drowning their sorrows from the start of the new workweek. It gave the place a soft, warm atmosphere and there was the tinkling of jazz somewhere in the background.

Dean had paced up and down the sidewalk for a good fifteen minutes by the time he plucked up the courage to go in. It had taken him all weekend to come up with a decent plan of action for finding Cas, devoting all his spare time to thinking about it. Well, maybe more like seventy percent of the time, the other thirty percent of the time he spent thinking about Cas was more pleasurably spent… and the rest of the weekend? Well the term wallowing in self-pity could probably have been applied if Dean was being totally honest with himself.

Eventually he’d had to concede that short of asking for Charlie’s help, which he’d never hear the fucking end of, the only option was to ask Cas’s brother.

And that would have been all fine and dandy… except that he was also a Novak. And that was bloody terrifying.

He’d casually, and stupidly, dropped the name ‘Novak’ to Sam during their second Thanksgiving dinner yesterday. That was a mistake he’d never make again. True, Sam couldn’t tell him a lot, most of it was all rumours, quite a few of which Dean had heard before. But still, hearing that the guy you may or may not be seriously crushing on, was a member of quite possibly the most powerful and cruel crime family in the city, if not this side of the country… well it wasn’t fucking pleasant, that much he’d admit. 

Fuck he was far gone if he was willing to go through all this shit just to find the guy again. The sex must have been pretty damn incredible for him to want to risk his neck just to see Cas again… which, yeah, it had been.

Ridiculous, that’s what this was… ridiculous. He should just go home now and forget about Cas. Except he’d been trying to do that for a week and every time he closes his eyes, all he can see is an endless expanse of azure.

Dean took a deep breath and wound his way through the tables towards to bar. The slightly scary yet sexy British woman who accosted him last time wasn’t here, but there was a pretty dark-haired girl down the far end of the bar who drew his eye.

“Good evening sir, how can I help you today?” her voice was gentle, her eyes a soft blue that reminded him a little of Cas. He pulled out his best confident smirk that Charlie had dubbed his patented panty-dropping smile.

“Hey sweetheart, is Mr Novak available? I’m a friend of Castiel’s.”

“Of course, sir. I’ll see if he’s available, may I take your name?”

“Sure darling, it’s Dean Winchester. Doctor Dean Winchester.” He loved saying that, it made him feel like James Bond. He had the killer car, the sexy smile, all he needed now was the tux and to be honest, he hated wearing those things anyway! Plus, Charlie could definitely be his very own Q…

The barmaid nodded and asked him if he would like a drink while he waited, which Dean figured it would be rude to turn down. Besides, this was the bar with the killer whiskey.

He sipped the dark liquor slowly, letting his eyes roam over the room as he waited. People watching wasn’t quite as fun when you were by yourself, especially if you weren’t trying to get laid. He figured that if Castiel’s brother sent him packing then there was enough talent here that he didn’t necessarily have to go home alone…

“Doctor Winchester, to what do I owe this delightful pleasure?”

Dean snapped his head around to take in the speaker. It was the man he’d seen sat next to Cas when he’d first come to the bar, with fluffy, sandy hair and a smattering of dark stubble. Dean could see a slight hint of Cas in his face but what he couldn’t work out was why this guy had a ridiculous British accent. The man ordered a drink for both of them and lounged against the bar next to Dean, waiting for him to speak.

“You must be Cas…um… Castiel’s brother.”

“One of,” the man answered, with a slight nod of the head. “Balthazar Novak.” He extended a hand, which Dean shook. Now that Balthazar was here, Dean didn’t have a clue what to say. He hadn’t even imagined he’d get this far and if he was being honest, this man was nothing like he expected. He’d pictured all of Cas’s brothers to be rich, overprotective assholes - smirking, British and wearing ridiculously deep v-neck t-shirts hadn’t been in the description.

“So Dean… may I ask why you’re here? Not that I’m not flattered, of course, but I rather had the impression that you were interested in lovely Cassie.”

“I need your help…” The words fell out of Dean’s mouth before he could stop them. Dammit Winchester, get it together!

“Oh?” Balthazar took a sip of his drink, fixing Dean with an amused look. “And why is that?”

“I need… I want… I mean…” Dean downed the glass in front of him, relishing the sharp burn in his throat. “I want to find Cas again.”

“And why would you want to do that? I mean, I’m assuming he didn’t give you his number because he’s really not interested in seeing you again.” Balthazar fixed him with a pointed look, as if he could read Dean’s mind. Dean swallowed.

“Look, I was a dick to him. I’ll admit that. I found out who he was and I left.”

“I see.”

“I get it, I was wrong and your brother probably never wants to see me again. But, I want to see him, even if it’s just to apologise… but I don’t know how to find him, and I thought you might have a number or an address or something… look, I get it alright, I’m an ass, but I’m an ass who wants to tell him that I fucked up.” He’s ranting and he knows it. Maybe he should have just chalked Cas up to a fucking awesome one-night stand but… but there’s something else there and he knows it. For the first time in a long time, he knows he doesn’t want to throw this away.

Balthazar studied him and took a slow swig of his whiskey, his eyes never leaving Dean, as if Dean is a puzzle he’s trying to figure out.

“Look, my brother may be a Novak but you need to understand this, he’s less like my older brothers than you’d think. Yes, we all torment him because that’s what brothers do.” Dean nodded, tormenting Sam is part and parcel of being his brother so he knows where Balthazar is coming from. It’s a place of love as much of anything else. “But, at the end of the day, all I want is for Cas to be happy. Do you know why I’m telling you this?”

Dean shook his head.

“It’s because you’re the first person I’ve ever met whose come looking for him. The first person who found out who we are and hasn’t gone running for the hills or stuck around just because they want our money. And Cas, well, he’s different. Yes he follows orders, we all do, but don’t think for a minute that he enjoys it.”

Dean isn’t really sure why Balthazar is telling him this. Cas probably won’t even want to speak to him let alone pursue anything like a relationship… shit, does he even want that?

Still, it’s a tiny bit of comfort that Cas isn’t quite the bloodthirsty killer he’d imagined.

Balthazar pulled a business card out of his pocket, summoning a pen from the girl behind the bar and scribbling something down on the back.

“Here, this is where you’ll find him.” Dean took the card and studied the neat cursive address on the card.

“Thanks.” He doesn’t know what else to say. What is there really?

“And Dean,” added Balthazar, his face now impassive. “Break his heart and I promise they’ll never find your body.”

Dean knows he isn’t joking.  

xxx

On Tuesday evening, Castiel was considering whether alcoholism was a good career move. It would certainly make a good new vice. He’d been cigarette free for over a week and he’d managed not to kill anyone… well nobody important anyway…

He’d been expecting an earful from Michael at Thanksgiving. A full-blown ear bashing complete with threats of violence and the well-used phrase of “what a disappointment to our father you are” and a month of thankless tasks as punishment. If he was really unlucky he’d get a beating. Broken ribs usually did the trick of reminding someone of their place.

Except it hadn’t happened.

Michael had been suspiciously quiet on the subject, simply telling Castiel that he was pleased that Castiel was learning how to handle people. He’d seemed almost proud.

Lucifer had certainly been pleased, telling Castiel that the Russian’s would certainly respect him more now and thus the whole Novak family. He’d given Castiel a cigar.

Castiel had left the family estate feeling more confused than ever. It was true, he’d killed people before but that had been on someone’s orders and it wasn’t usually him that pulled the trigger.

The whole experience had left him cold and for some reason Michael was now heaping more responsibility onto his plate. And now he had to meet with Dick Roman, the biggest… well, dick… Castiel had ever had the misfortune to meet. And that was saying a lot.  

That was tomorrow morning and Castiel wondered whether getting blackout drunk the night before was a smart move. True, it might make Roman a tiny bit more bearable to deal with, especially if he was still drunk when he woke up. On the other hand, he’d avoided broken ribs once this week but he wasn’t completely convinced that his luck would stretch that far.

Michael might even kill him if he insulted Roman and brought shame upon the Novak family.   

He pottered into the kitchen, musing the possibilities over in his head as he pulled open various cupboards and the fridge. Becky had obviously re-filled it today but he didn’t want to cook. He toyed with ordering takeout and just as he had finally decided on ordering as much Chinese as he could stomach, there was a knock on the door.

Either the chef at the Jade Palace had developed psychic powers or he had an unexpected guest.

Although who it was Castiel had no clue. He doubted it was the Russians out for revenge, this apartment wasn’t even registered in his own name.

He peered through the small spy hole in the door and the sight made his breath catch in his throat. Before he could think about the repercussions of his actions, he’d pulled open the door to the man standing outside.

It was Dean.

Beautiful, sexy, amazing Dean, who’d run at the first mention of the Novak name. Who’d been, hands down, the best sex of Castiel’s life. Who’d intrigued him. Who’d infuriated him. Who’d left him desperate for more. Who’d driven him to drink, to kill a man… The only man Castiel had ever wanted to see again. The man he’d desperately tried to forget, because Castiel was sure he would never come back, was standing in his doorway with a terrified look on his face and a faint blush in his cheeks.

Castiel thought he’d never looked more beautiful.

“Dean…” Castiel’s voice was barely above a whisper.

“Hey Cas.” Dean looked slightly sheepish, as if he was unsure as to whether he should be here or not. “Can… um, can I come in?” Castiel nodded, still not really sure what was happening. If somebody pulled a gun on him now, he’d be useless. “I bought pie.” Dean added, and it was only then that Castiel noticed he was holding a covered dish in one hand. “Well technically, it’s more like two-thirds of a pie because, well I really like pie and I couldn’t resist. It’s bourbon pecan. My sister in law made it. Sorry, you probably don’t even like pie. This was fucking stupid.”

It all clicked in Castiel’s mind - Dean was nervous. Ridiculously so. Castiel felt his heart speed up, beating so loudly he was sure that Dean could hear it.

“I love pie.” Castiel said finally, pulling the door open wider and ushering his guest inside. He took the dish, and carried it through to the kitchen, adding, “I was just about to order Chinese food… would you like to join me?” He was nervous too, he realised. He felt like he was sixteen all over again, dealing with his very first crush. It reminded him of his first date with Alfie.   

“Sounds great, I’ve just come off a fucking awful shift, man I could kill for some take-out right now!” Dean smiled and the tension cracked slightly.

Suddenly it was easier to talk. Castiel knew they could ignore the elephant in the room as long as neither of them bought it up and he was currently far too sober for that conversation. He pulled a couple of beers out of the fridge and offered one to Dean as they bickered gently over what to order.

As Castiel placed an order to be delivered to the building, Dean pottered off to investigate the apartment. Castiel felt a small twinge in his stomach as he watched the other man. Dean’s approval shouldn’t matter to him, he barely knew the man and had no idea why the doctor had suddenly appeared on his doorstep brandishing a pie dish. But for some, ridiculous reason it did.

“Hey Cas,”

“Yes Dean?”

“Have you read all these books? Or are you just hoping people will think you have?”

Castiel chuckled to himself as he followed Dean into the living room, watching the man examine the expanses of his bookshelves.

“Most of them,” he said, “but you’ve got me, a few of them are on there because they look good.”

“I knew it!” Dean chuckled, shooting Cas a wink.

“Dean…” Cas began, unsure of how to get the next few words out. How was it that this man could reduce him to such a bumbling mess? Dean said nothing, but he twitched at the sound of his name. “Dean, I have to ask… not that I’m not happy… it’s just… I mean…”

“Why am I here?” Dean’s voice was soft, a tinge of something clinging to the edge of his tone.

“Yes.”

“Well, um, the truth is… look, I know I was a massive dick to you. I knew it as soon as I left. But, fuck Cas I can’t stop thinking about it. About you. And I don’t even know why you let me in, you have no reason to be nice to me but I had to see you. I had to ask-”

Castiel strode across the room and silenced him with a kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I now have [Tumblr](https://ladyofthursday.tumblr.com/)\- come say hi!


	8. A Dribble of Ice Cream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay in getting this chapter out - I think I wrote it about four or five times before I was happy with it... I have managed to plan the next few chapters out though. But if it's anything like this one it won't go as planned. 
> 
> Keep an eye out on my Tumblr for the pie recipe - I intend to post it as soon as possible. (I lent the book to a friend and haven't got it back yet).  
> I now have [Tumblr](https://ladyofthursday.tumblr.com/)\- come say hi!

Castiel felt Dean melt into him as their lips collided. Passion burned through the soft, wet heat of Dean’s mouth as his tongue pushed into Castiel’s; searching, claiming, returning every piece of unspoken desire.

One of them let out a soft groan, Castiel couldn’t work out who, but the noise drew them closer together. With frantic urgency they clutched at each other, hands roaming over clothes grabbing and pulling as the kisses became sloppier, rougher – with nips of teeth and clashing tongues. Blood pounded through Castiel’s veins and he wanted nothing more than to give into his desires and take Dean to bed, stripping him down and working his way through each and every fantasy he’d concocted over the past few weeks.

But he knew that would have to wait. There were things he had to do first.

Reluctantly he pulled away, noting that both of them were breathing heavily. Dean’s eyes were filled with shock and awe, his lips curling up to match.

“Jesus Cas, give a guy a little warning.”

“My apologies,” Castiel muttered, taking a step back and releasing Dean’s shirt from his grasp. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Hey,” Dean muttered, grasping Castiel’s chin lightly and pulling his face up, “did I say I didn’t like it?” There was a feral look on his face - a wild and untamed lust that seared into Cas. It made him want to give up any remaining control, hand it to Dean on a platter and let Dean do whatever he wanted with him. The intensity of the feeling was overwhelming. Castiel had never felt anything like it and it unnerved him. Dean pulled him closer again, wrapping his arms around Castiel’s waist as he drew the mobster in for another kiss.

“Wait, Dean wait…” Cas pulled away slightly, using every ounce of control available to him. “Before we do… this, I need to talk to you.” He took a deep breath, looking up into Dean’s eyes and noting tiny golden flecks nestled amongst the green. Dean nodded as Castiel drew them towards one of the soft couches in the living room.

“I need to be honest with you. I need you to know the truth. I need you to understand. I’m not just an accountant, I’m a Novak and I don’t really think you appreciate what that means.”

“Yeah Cas, I do.”

“No,” Castiel answered, with a small shake of his head, fixing his eyes on the floor. “No, I don’t think you do. The last time you were here you heard Becky mention my name and you were angry. Maybe you were scared, I’m not certain. But I’m guessing you’ve heard of my family and the fact… the fact you came back is something I’ll never forget. But, I need you to understand before you do anything else.”

There was a soft squeeze on his arm and he realised that Dean had moved up closer to him.

“Look Cas, I know I freaked out last time. You’re right, I was terrified. But, fuck I wish I could take it back. That’s why I’m here. Please, talk to me.” His tone was insistent but it only made Castiel feel worse because he knew it would hurt that much more when Dean left for a second time.

Castiel sighed deeply, rubbing his hands together as he mulled things over in his head. He wanted to be able to talk to Dean, to tell him everything he’d done over the years and pour out his crimes like a sinner in church, begging forgiveness from this beautiful man. But he couldn’t. A lifetime of training forbade that.

What did he truly know about Dean? Apart from the fact he was a doctor? Nothing. Well, nothing noteworthy anyway.

“I appreciate that Dean,” he said softly. “Truly I do. Your faith in me is astounding.”

“I wouldn’t call it faith Cas.”

“Whatever it is, it’s surprising. I’ve known very few people in my life who would willingly spend time with me, that aren’t my family or my employees. The fact is, I’ve done things I’m not proud of… I’ll spare you the details… but suffice to say I’m probably not the person you believe me to be.” Castiel looked at Dean, trying to read something in his face. But Dean had schooled his expression into the firmest readout of neutral he’d ever seen. It was a better poker face than Cas had seen on most of his brothers. It would probably even give Michael a run for his money. Castiel took a deep breath before he continued, trying with every word to memorise the little details on Dean’s face so he’d be able to remember them long after he’d gone.

“The Novak name is synonymous with many things; power, control, money and I’m aware of the continuing rumours over the legality of much of my family’s activities and I’m sure you are too Dean. In fact, I’m guessing that’s why you ran. And I can’t tell you how much it means to me to see you again. But I can’t let you do this. I can’t let you throw your life away with me… even if it kills me to do so.”

“No.”

“What do you mean no?”

“I mean just that Cas. No. I’m not leaving.” Dean’s tone was firm. “I don’t care who you are. You are not making this decision for me.”

“Dean,” Cas growled. “You’re not listening to me.”

“No Cas,” Dean shot back, anger rising in his voice. “No, I’m fucking not. In fact, you can listen to me for a minute. I’m not going to run away screaming or fucking rat you out. I know who you are and I probably know more than you think. But don’t you dare try and make this choice for me. It’s taken me fucking ages to make this decision to come here because I was that fucking nervous about who you are. I wanted to just chalk you up to an amazing lay and be done with it! But I can’t. And I’m not about to let you kick me out because you think you know what’s best for me. Well fuck that Cas, I’m not leaving and you can’t make me.”

Dean sat back on the couch, arms folded with the most resolute expression Castiel had ever seen carved into his face. He didn’t quite know what to say. Or what to think. But he did have the suspicion that he probably wasn’t supposed to find the entire scenario as arousing as he currently was.

“Dean,” he started again, his tongue darting out to lick his lips as he slid closer to Dean, smoothly slipping one leg over the doctor’s lap to straddle him. There was heat burning in Dean’s eyes and Castiel wrapped his arms around Dean’s neck, pulling them close and relishing the feeling of Dean’s body underneath his. “You are the first person I’ve ever met who’s told me no.” Castiel felt the other man shudder as he gently tongued Dean’s ear, nipping at it, causing a tiny moan to escape Dean’s lips. “Well, at least the first one I’ve ever considered listening to.”

Dean growled, drawing Castiel’s face towards his as their lips collided in a hungry kiss. Their arms wrapped around each other, hands eagerly exploring every inch of flesh they could reach as Castiel began to grind into Dean’s lap, drawing eager moans from both of them.

“Mmm Cas,” Dean murmured, his voice sending shivers down Castiel’s spine, “the things I want to do to you. All the hours I’ve spent fantasising about exactly what I’m going to do first. I think-”

But what exactly Dean wanted to do to him would have to wait, for at that precise moment the doorbell buzzed angrily and shattered the moment with a hammer.

x

Castiel could have murdered the Jade Palace delivery boy on the spot.

In fact, the poor boy outside looked positively terrified when Castiel wrenched open the door, snarling, and shoved a couple of notes into the boy’s shaking hands. Dean chuckled from his place on the couch as Castiel stomped into the kitchen, pulling things around noisily until he returned with crockery, Chinese food and more beer.

Despite the fact that he was still desperate to get his hands on Dean, his desire was tempered by the delicious scents wafting through the apartment and for a time, neither of them said anything as they attacked the huge spread of food, ignoring the dining table in favour of remaining comfortably on the couch.

 “So,” began Dean, as he raided a carton of noodles. “Do you ever watch anything on this massive-ass TV or is it just here for decoration?” He gestured at the giant HD screen on the wall that Gabriel had insisted on installing when Castiel had bought the apartment.  

“Not much really, just the occasional movie and a lot of Dr Sexy re-runs.” Castiel admitted, a little sheepishly.

“Holy shit! You watch Dr Sexy?” Dean’s eyes were wide, as if he’d just stumbled upon the holy grail itself. Surely Castiel’s fascination with the ridiculous medical drama wasn’t that interesting?

 “Yes,” admitted Cas, a burning blush spreading across his cheeks. “I rather enjoy it, it helps me de-stress and Doctor Sexy himself is very attractive.”

“Damn straight he is!”

“Although,” Castiel added, smirking slightly to himself. “I don’t know if he can compare with the very real, very sexy Doctor Winchester currently sitting on my couch.”

“Well, I am ridiculously handsome.” Dean chuckled, helping himself to another serving of pork and wiggling his eyebrows at Cas.

It was funny, how easily they slipped into conversation. It began with Dr Sexy and then somehow Dean was telling Castiel how different to the show being a doctor really was, and the reality of dealing with patients. He mentioned his favourite patients, and his friends at the hospital specifically Jo, his irritating sort-of-sister, and Benny, one of his best friends, who made the best Cajun food you could find anywhere.

It was nice Castiel realised, as Dean began talking about the weird but nice new doctor in paediatrics, Garth, who insisted on talking to them all through some ‘weird-ass sock puppet called Mr Fizzles’, to hear about a normal life.

Dean’s life was so far removed from anything Castiel’s had ever been, or could ever hope to be that it was almost like listening to someone who lived in another universe. Castiel felt like an alien being who’d been granted his first encounter with humanity. He’d had very few friends, even as a child, and his whole existence had been geared to him taking up his place in the family business. And for a moment Castiel started to hope that maybe, just maybe, Dean could give him a tiny piece of normality.

“Hey Cas, you ok?” Dean’s voice startled Castiel, cutting through his self-indulgent revelry.

“Yes, sorry. I was just thinking about what you said.”

“Really? It wasn’t that interesting.”

“I suppose it isn’t to you but I’ve never really had any friends.” It sounded stupid, Castiel knew, and he wished he could take it back. But the words were out of his mouth now, hanging in the air for all to see.

“Damn that sucks. Not even when you were a kid?”

“Not really, I went to private schools and I was the strange child who didn’t really fit in. My father had very specific ideas about who I should mix with. He believed that I shouldn’t really have friends, not unless they were useful in some way. He was an… interesting man.”

Dean nodded, lost in his own thoughts. “Yeah… I get that,” he added finally in a way that made Castiel realise that Dean didn’t really want to talk about it.

They’d mostly finished the food now, empty cartons littering the coffee table and Castiel sighed contentedly.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m very full now.” He said, attempting to change the subject. It seemed to work though because Dean shot him a horrified look.

“No way man. You can’t be full yet – we’ve gotta have pie!”

Castiel had completely forgotten about the pie. In the heat of the moment and Dean’s declarations of loyalty, he’d overlooked the two-thirds of pecan pie sitting on his kitchen counter. It had looked good… he weighed temptation up against virtue and temptation won. Easily.

Somehow, he found himself standing in his kitchen, watching Dean depositing two large pieces onto a plate and putting them into the microwave to warm.

“Trust me Cas, this pie will change your life. Honestly if she wasn’t married to Sam, I would keep Jess for myself – just so she could make me pie!”

“Sam is your brother correct?”

“Yeah he is. He’s a good kid, even if he does say hurtful things like ‘eat this kale Dean’ and ‘why don’t you go for a run Dean’.”

“As a doctor aren’t you supposed to promote a healthy lifestyle?” teased Castiel, digging in the freezer for the tub of ice cream he was sure was in there.

“Hey, hey do as I say, not as I do. And besides, I firmly believe that you should enjoy life. Good food, good whiskey, good sex – it’s all about balance.” Dean winked at him as he opened the ice cream that Cas handed to him.

“Well, we’ve got good food and I’m sure I’ve got a bottle of whiskey somewhere,” murmured Cas, sliding behind Dean, wrapping his arms around his waist and teasingly running his fingers across Dean’s groin. “And I’m definitely amenable to the third suggestion.” Dean laughed, turning in Castiel’s arms and placing a quick kiss on his lips.

“Ah ah, pie first then sex!” he said, stepping away and pulling the plate out of the microwave and beginning to heap ice cream on the steaming pie. The smell had Castiel’s mouth-watering and his desire wavered slightly. It would be rude to refuse the pie…

“Are you serious?”

“Deadly,” confirmed Dean, trying not to smile. “For two reasons: one, this pie is so spectacular that it must be eaten now. Two,” he moved closer again, dropping his voice and crowding Castiel against the worktop, “after I’m done with you, you’re not gonna be able to remember your own name, let alone be coherent enough to eat pie.”

Castiel groaned as Dean pulled him in for a rough kiss, crashing their mouths together while grabbing at Castiel’s ass with both hands, grinding them together in a short lived, agonising moment.  He pulled away, picking up the plate and two spoons, sauntering out of the kitchen and leaving Castiel breathlessly clutching the kitchen counter.

 “You are a fucking tease Dean Winchester.”

x

Watching Dean Winchester eat pie was an interesting experience to say the least.

Castiel had a sneaking suspicion that half of Dean’s antics were deliberately designed to tease him. The moans around each mouthful, the slow sliding of the spoon out of his mouth that highlighted his soft, plump lips combined with the deep eye contact every time he licked his lips clean, all continued to drive Castiel crackers.

True, the pie was delicious but he wasn’t convinced it was _that_ delicious. There was a hidden layer of chocolate under the sumptuous whiskey-pecan filling that was simply heavenly with the crisp pastry and creamy, vanilla ice cream. Castiel couldn’t remember ever having such a lovely dessert before but then again, his enjoyment could well have been heightened by watching Dean.

The final straw came when Dean licked the final mouthful of ice cream off the spoon, tongue darting out to scoop up the last drops of the melting dessert and letting a tiny stream of creamy liquid dribble out of the corner of his mouth, never taking his eyes off Castiel as he slid his tongue over the skin to lap it up.

Cas barely waited until the plate clinked onto the coffee table before he pounced.

Growling he pinned Dean to the couch, ravishing the doctor’s eager mouth with his tongue and tasting the warm sweetness of the pie and ice cream there.

Dean wriggled underneath him, groaning into his mouth and bucking up when Castiel ground his quickly hardening cock down onto Dean’s groin.

“You were doing that on purpose,” muttered Castiel as he began sucking marks into Dean’s neck, loving the feeling of the doctor squirming and moaning beneath him.

“Obviously,” retorted Dean, pulling his hands free and starting to attack Cas’s button up. As soon as there was an expanse of free skin, Dean attacked it with relish and all Castiel could do was groan.

“Not to be rude,” said Castiel breathlessly, once they were both stripped down to their boxers, grinding into each other as they used their mouths to explore as much hot skin as physically possible. “But I think we should move to my bed. I don’t really want to explain to Becky how we ruined a five-thousand-dollar couch.”

Dean chuckled, mercilessly sucking on Castiel’s nipple. “Sounds fair,” he added, breaking off momentarily, “besides, there’s not nearly enough room here for what I want to do.”

With surprising force Dean pushed Castiel off him, grabbing him around the wrist and pulling him towards the bedroom door. The move caught Castiel off guard at first, resulting in an undignified squawk that he will never, ever admit he made. But he quickly regained his balance and allowed Dean to tug him into his room.

The door clicked shut behind them and Castiel found himself up against it, Dean’s body pressed against his as they resumed their desperate grinding and frantic kissing.

“Dean,” Cas groaned, his head thumping back against the door. “Please.”

“Please what?” Dean chuckled, his hand sliding between them to stroke Cas’s burning erection through the soft fabric of his boxers.

“I… fuck… please… I want you.”

“Wanna fuck me Cas?” Dean asked, nipping at Castiel’s earlobe as his strokes grew firmer, eliciting a whimper from Castiel. “Wanna watch me ride your dick? Come all over you while you fill me up?”

“God, yes Dean… please!”

Castiel felt so powerless. He was putty in Dean’s arms. A weak, vulnerable, out-of-control mess. And for once in his miserable life, he didn’t care.

He allowed Dean to push him onto the bed, pulling off his boxers and slipping between his legs. Dean shot him a wink as he slid his mouth down Castiel’s cock, wrapping his lips around the thickness and caressing the skin with his tongue.

Somewhere, Cas heard the click of the lube cap but he was too lost in pleasure to pay attention, his whole being focused on the warm, wetness of Dean’s oh-so-talented mouth. He couldn’t help the soft moans and little begging noises and gasps of _“oh fuck, Dean”_ that streamed from his lips. All he could do was lie there, grasping at the sheets, and take what Dean gave him.

Pure, unadulterated perfection.

Dean pulled off with a wet pop and Castiel groaned at the loss of that sinful tongue.

“Don’t worry Cas,” Dean added, straddling his hips and leaning down for a kiss. “I’m just getting started.” Castiel heard the ripping of the condom packet and felt Dean’s skilful fingers rolling it down his aching cock.

“Look at me, sweetheart,” Dean murmured. Castiel didn’t even realised he’d closed his eyes as he opened them to gaze into the endless expanse of green above him. Dean’s pupils were blown wide with desire as he raised his hips up, slowly sliding himself down onto Castiel’s dick.

“Fuck, Dean!” Cas choked out as Dean bottomed out, his hips flush with Castiel’s. A little smile caressed Dean’s lips as his tongue darted across them, the thin coat of moisture highlighting their perfect curves.

“God Cas,” Dean groaned, throwing his head back and rocking his hips experimentally, “fuck, you feel so good. Love your dick babe.”

Castiel could only gasp and grab for Dean’s muscled thighs as Dean began to ride him slowly. It was as if Dean was determined to torture him; every rocking circle, every soft rise and fall, sent sparks of pleasure shooting through his veins. He wanted more. He needed more.

He bucked his hips up, thrusting into the tight heat of Dean’s ass, relishing the gasping moan that it elicited. But clearly, Dean had other ideas. He grabbed Castiel’s hands from his hips and pushed them above his head, tutting softly.

“Oh no Cas, you don’t get to fuck me. I’ve been dreaming about your cock all week and I’m going to fucking enjoy myself.”

“And what am I then?” growled Cas, trying to keep his voice level as Dean rolled his hips again. “Just a dildo for you to fuck yourself on?”

“More or less,” winked Dean, “the most perfect dildo I’ve ever had.”  

Cas let out another undignified whine, his fingers latching onto whatever he could grab as Dean picked up a merciless pace.

“Fuck Cas, so fucking perfect for me…” Dean gasped out.

A never-ending litany of filth seeped from his lips, every word setting a fire in Castiel’s veins as he watched Dean. It was the most perfect sight he’d ever seen. He’d never thought he’d relish a lack of control, but having Dean take it from him was the most erotic thing he’d ever experienced.

Dean re-angled his hips and cried out, fucking himself hard onto Cas’s cock. “Shit Cas, getting close… fuck.”

“Yes… Dean, please. Want you to come on my cock,” Cas gasped out, his eyes fixated on the sight above him. Sweat glistened on Dean’s chest, his dick bobbing obscenely between his legs and slapping down onto Castiel’s abdomen as he rode Cas hard and fast, his hands gripping tight onto Cas’s thighs.  

“Fuck, Cas, gonna come.” Dean’s head was tipped back, his mouth open and a deep groan rumbled through his body as he came hard across Castiel’s chest.

Cas rocked his hips gently, savouring the feeling of Dean’s ass clenching around him. He reached a hand up and gently pulled at Dean’s hips, drawing him in for a soft kiss and tugging gently at Dean’s lower lip. Castiel ran his tongue along Dean’s jaw as the other man breathed heavily into the crook of his neck. A wicked smile played across Castiel’s face as he nipped at Dean’s throat.

“Now it’s my turn.”

x

Afterwards they lay curled together in the middle of Castiel’s bed; a sweaty and sated jumble of limbs. Dean’s body was firm and warm under his as Cas lay with his head resting on Dean’s chest, the doctor’s arm wrapped around him.

The whole situation felt overwhelmingly domestic. It was frightening and comforting in equal measure. Dean’s fingers gently stroked up and down Castiel’s arm, lulling him gently to the edges of sleep.

“Hey Cas?” Dean’s voice was soft.

“Yes Dean.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Tell me the truth: have you ever killed anyone?”

That wasn’t the question Castiel had been expecting. He felt himself tense, holding his breath while he tried to figure out how to remain calm and collected.

“Why do you ask?” He replied, trying to keep his tone as nonchalant as possible, glancing up to look at Dean’s face.

“Just curious really,” Dean tilted his head to look at him, his face impassive. “I was just thinking about it.”

Castiel took a deep breath. “Yes Dean, I have.”

He waited. Waited for the penny to drop and for Dean to hurl himself off the bed and run out the front door as fast as he possibly could, disappearing out of Castiel’s life for the second time.  

“Hmm,” added Dean, “I thought so.” He paused, a little smile wiggling onto his lips as he studied Cas’s face. “Don’t worry I won’t tell anyone. I was just being nosey.”

“You’re too nosey for your own good you know,” Cas muttered to himself as he curled back into Dean’s warmth.

“Yeah I know,” Dean chuckled, “but I’m not as bad as Sam. He’s ridiculously nosey. He wants to know everything, I think that’s why he went to work for-” There was a slapping sound and Castiel guessed that Dean had attempted to stop himself from finishing that sentence. Whoever his brother worked for, Castiel guessed that it probably wasn’t an organisation that would look kindly upon the Novak family’s alternative business structure.

Castiel said nothing. He just waited, Dean would tell him when he was ready. And besides, if he really wanted to know, it wouldn’t be difficult to get the information.

“Dean,” he asked gently, stroking his hand up the soft, warm skin of Dean’s abdomen. “Do you want to stay tonight?” There was silence for a minute while Dean considered, then he chuckled slightly, squeezing Castiel closer.

“Thought I’d made that obvious.” Castiel flicked his eyes up and smirked at the devious look on Dean’s face. “Besides, there is no way I’m done with you yet.”

Castiel wriggled up and captured Dean’s lips in a hungry kiss.

“I’m assuming you’re up for round two then?”

“Darlin’, I’m up for as many rounds as you want,” Dean replied pulling Cas close, his hands wandering lower and lower.

X

Much later, after they’d completely warn themselves out, Dean fell asleep beside Castiel.

He looked so peaceful, his face soft as his countless freckles danced across his skin in the glow from the city lights. Castiel couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen something so pure.

His heart ached whenever he looked at Dean. It wasn’t a feeling he wanted and yet he felt like he couldn’t escape it’s pull. After Alfie, he’d told himself he’d never feel this way about anyone again. And yet here he was, plummeting head first into… something.

Was it love?

No, it couldn’t be. Not yet. He hardly knew the man. It was probably just lust.

And yet as he watched Dean sleep, clutching the pillow in one hand, he knew deep down that it was infinitely more than lust. Dean gave him something that he’d never, ever allowed himself to have before.

Hope.

He watched Dean for a few more minutes, tracing the lines of his body with his eyes and watching his chest rise and fall gently. Then he slid out of bed and padded into the living room, leaving the door ajar behind him.

Castiel pulled a laptop out of a drawer, hidden in the bookcase, flicking it open and working his way through the encryptions. He sat down on the couch, carefully removing the pieces of his and Dean’s clothing from under him as he pulled his legs onto the cushions, curling up like a cat.

And he began to plan.

xxx

Sam Winchester wasn’t quite sure why he and his wife had been summoned to a highly classified, late night meeting but then again, the Federal Bureau of Investigation never told anybody anything unless they had too.

He was even more surprised when he and Jess found themselves being ushered into the office of Naomi Tapping, Executive Assistant Director of the FBI Criminal, Cyber, Response and Services Branch.

Director Tapping looked up at them and motioned for them to have a seat. Beside her stood their boss, Assistant Director of the Criminal Investigative Division, Victor Henriksen.

“Agents Winchester,” Naomi began, fixing them with her trademark steely gaze. “You have been asked here tonight to discuss something highly classified.” She pulled two briefing folders from a draw and slid them across the desk. “As you are aware, the Novak family is one of the country’s most well organised crime syndicates with the entire business appearing to revolve around legitimate enterprises.”

Sam pulled the pack towards him, flicking it open and scanning the text in front of him as Jess did the same with hers.

“We have it on good authority,” stated Victor, “that there is the possibility of some movement within the family. We believe Michael Novak is attempting to use his family money to put together a campaign war-chest with the hope of running for office. This means he will likely hand the business over to one of his brothers, at least in a legal sense. We’re not sure who he will name as his successor but we believe it’s likely to be his second-in-command, Luke Novak - also known as Lucifer.”

“As you know,” continued Naomi, “there have been several attempted investigations into the Novak family before but none have succeeded. However, we believe this is the right time. Assistant Director Henrikson is putting together a task force to help with the investigation and we’d like you to join it.”

Sam stared at them. This couldn’t be possible. He didn’t have nearly enough experience for something like this. True, it was an amazing opportunity but…

“Us?” he said finally.

“Yes,” smiled Henrikson, amusement in his tone. “You’re both great agents, you work well as a team and you’ve both got the right skills and experience. I want you in this taskforce and I’m not taking no for an answer. So, are you in?”

Sam smiled, eyes wide. He turned to look at his wife, noting the same look dancing across her face. It was an obvious decision.

“We’re in.”


	9. Everything Was Beautiful, And Nothing Hurt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are no excuses for the delay in writing this. I'm just a shitty human so thank to you all for your patience. I thought I could write this and a challenge fic at the same time as having a stressful job - apparently I was mistaken. This is un-beta-ed so let me know if you spot any typos etc. 
> 
> I do have [Tumblr](https://ladyofthursday.tumblr.com/)\- so come say hi and nag me into doing more writing!

“So, are we even going to get to meet them?” Dean looked up from his plate at Sam’s question, fork halfway to his mouth. It was late January, nearly a week after Dean’s birthday and Sam had insisted on taking him out to dinner to celebrate. Despite his protestations and insistence that dinner at home would be just fine, Dean now found himself in one of the nicest steak houses in the city, sat opposite Sam and Jess, who were fixing him with determined looks. Damn nosey bastards.

“Meet who?” he asked, feigning obliviousness and ignoring Sam’s rolling eyes.

“Dean, don’t treat me like an idiot. I know you’re dating someone,” Sam snorted, reaching for the bottle of red wine in the middle of the table. “You’re always busy but you won’t say what you’re doing and when I do see you, you spend all night texting. I know you’re not doing anything weird, so I have to guess that you’re seeing someone. Plus,” he paused, shooting Dean a simpering smile, “you seem happier.”

“I’ve always been happy!” Dean retorted.

“No you haven’t, not recently,” Sam said gently, “and you haven’t called me after your shifts end for nearly two months. You just seem more relaxed y’know?”

“You do Dean,” Jess chimed in, an equally simpering and encouraging smile on her face. “You must really like them. Plus, I’m guessing they gave you that watch.” Dean grimaced because she was right, as usual. He does really like Cas, but he can’t tell them that. It’s not really possible to tell your brother and sister-in-law that you’re dating a member of a noted crime family when they work for the FBI. Dean suspected those sorts of conversations never ended well.

Jess is right about the watch as well; a Rolex Submariner that Cas bought him for his birthday. Apparently, that’s what Cas meant when he said he’d only bought Dean a small gift. He’d said the same at Christmas and then produced three signed, original Led Zeppelin vinyl’s. Dean had practically had a heart attack when he’d unwrapped the watch, stunned into silence, while Cas watched him with nervous eyes. It was only later, after some very energetic thank-you sex, that Dean realised the watch was engraved with quote from Vonnegut: _Everything was beautiful and nothing hurt_.

It was in that moment that he’d suddenly grasped just how much he cared for Castiel, maybe even loved him. He wanted nothing more than to be able to share that with his brother and the knowledge that he couldn’t was crippling him.

“Jesus, what is this an interrogation or a birthday dinner?” Dean grumbled.

“Dean,” Jess said, “we just want you to be happy.” There was an encouraging look on her face, as if she was trying to coax the answer out of him, like you might encourage a child. Dean sighed, his resolve crumpling.

“Look, I am seeing someone,” he muttered, leaning forward and keeping his voice low, shooting them both dark looks before they got over excited. “But he’s a very private person with a difficult family. We’re just trying to keep it under the radar for now. That’s all I’m gonna tell you.” Dean hoped the discussion would end there and, to their credit, Sam and Jess didn’t push the issue, merely exchanging furtive looks before changing the subject. Still, there was an uncomfortable knot in Dean’s stomach now and the meal seemed tainted by association.

Afterwards, Dean caught a cab back to Castiel’s apartment. He’d been spending most his time there recently, seeing as it was far nicer than his own cramped lease. It had beautiful views over the skyline, brimming bookshelves and a luxurious kitchen that Dean coveted for his own, although Cas had told him to use it as much as he pleased since he didn’t cook himself. Dean had seen this as something of a challenge and Becky had endorsed it, filling the fridge and cupboards to the brim, ecstatic that the room was getting some proper use. She was the only one who knew they were together, mostly because it was difficult to avoid her, but she’d promised not to say anything to anyone. Largely, Dean suspected, because Becky was secretly terrified of Cas.  

It wasn’t just those things that drew Dean there though; it was Cas himself. He found himself intrigued by this man, who seemed to slowly be letting Dean into his life.

Ever since Dean’s mad declaration that Cas couldn’t make him do anything, Cas seemed to be relaxing. It was as if Dean forcing his way into Castiel’s life had made him realise something that he hadn’t before. Although Dean couldn’t put his finger on what that was, it was oddly comforting to realise that Cas seemed to be as invested as Dean was. Still, it hurt that he couldn’t tell anyone, and it was starting to grate on Dean.

“Hey,” he called out, clicking the front door behind him and toeing off his shoes. Cas’s trenchcoat was already hung in the cupboard. “Cas?”

“In here.”

 Dean padded through the apartment, the soft carpet muffling his footsteps. Cas was in the bathroom, stripped down to his boxers and Dean couldn’t help admiring the way the dark material clung to every curve on his muscular ass. Damn! Dean was definitely going to have to bring up the possibility of them ever switching – not that he didn’t love getting fucked, but Cas’s ass was something else.

Cas was washing his hands in the sink and for a moment the water seemed oddly tinted with a faint reddish hue. Cas’s clothes were nowhere to be seen either and while part of Dean’s brain was already putting two and two together to make four, the rest of it was stomping on that calculation as quickly as possible.

“Did you have fun with Sam?” Cas asked, looking at Dean via the mirror, a smile curving across his lips, “how was the restaurant?”

“Yeah, it was fine,” Dean answered, leaning against the door frame. He wasn’t completely convinced that he wanted to have this conversation right now.

“Only fine? You’ve been looking forward to seeing him all week – did he saying something?” Cas turned, eyebrow raised and Dean internally cursed at the Novak’s incredibly people reading skills.

“Not really, y’know just the usual stuff,” Dean said, attempting to divert the question, “how was your meeting?”

“Productive,” Cas said, “don’t lie to me Dean, please, just tell me what happened?”

“Sam figured out I’m dating someone.” Dean looked at the floor, focusing on the grouting between each tile. “Said I’m happier, more relaxed. Jess noticed the watch.”

“Oh, those are good things though, aren’t they?” Dean nodded, noting the steely edge to Cas’s tone now, as if he’d already figured out where this conversation was heading. “What did you say?”

“Nothing, well… I told them I was dating someone, I just didn’t say who. Said you liked your privacy and stuff. Didn’t even give a name.” Dean flicked his eyes up and watched Cas visibly relax. In the few months he’d know Cas, the only time he really seemed to get anxious was when Dean suggested telling Sam. He wasn’t stupid. He knew they’d have to be careful, but Cas had closed down the conversation every time and Dean was starting to wonder whether the issue was with Sam or with Cas himself.

“Good, that’s good,” Cas added and Dean’s heart sank a little. He moved behind Cas, wrapping his arms tightly around his boyfriend’s waist, feeling the heat radiating off his skin as he began to press little kisses on Cas’s neck.

“I’ve been thinking,” Dean said, “I know you’re not keen, but I really want to tell Sam.” Cas went rigid in his arms and Dean tightened his grip, plunging ahead before Cas could open his mouth. “Look, I’ve always been close with him, and I hate keeping this from him. I really like you Cas and I want him to meet you.”

“We can’t Dean, you know that.”

“We can, I promise. We don’t even have to give him your real name.” He pressed more kisses on the soft skin, preparing to drop the bombshell he’d been hiding from Cas since they’d met. “I know Sam works for the FBI but-”

“What?” Cas snapped, pulling away, his face a mask of cold fury. “What did you say?”

“That Sam works for the FBI,” Dean said, determined not to concede.

“And you didn’t think you should have told me sooner?”

“No.” Dean folded his arms, moving to block the bathroom door and drawing himself up to his full height. “You wouldn’t have given me a fucking chance if you’d known. You’d have shot me on sight.”

“Possibly. But you had no right to keep this from me.”

“Really? No right Cas, that’s what you’re going with? I know fuck all about your family except that one of your brothers owns a bar and wears shirts that are far too low cut for his age! So forgive me for keeping this from you. This one thing. Because I wanted you to give me a chance, not to throw me away because you’re a fucking coward! I’m not going to be your dirty little secret forever!”

“Do you know why I haven’t told my family? Why I insist on keeping this quiet?” Cas’s voice was low, dangerous even, exuding that raw power and authority that Dean knew was the reason that people were afraid of him. “Because at the least, at the very least, they would bring you in. You wouldn’t be Dean Winchester anymore more. You’d become the Novak family doctor and your loyalty would be expected to be absolute. If my brothers found about Sam? You’d be dead and if you were very lucky, it would be quick and painless. And me? Well, let’s just say Michael would make my last moments on earth excruciating.”

Dean’s face fell, a faint heat burning in his cheeks. Cas wasn’t ashamed or embarrassed or even a coward. He was protecting him from a fate worse than death.

“I’m sorry,” Dean muttered, “sometimes I forget, about your family.”

“Listen,” Cas said, reaching out to place his hand on Dean’s waist, “I’m doing this to protect you. To protect us. One day, this will all be over and then we can tell Sam.”

“What do you mean?” Dean raised his eyebrow, shooting Cas a questioning look.

“Just know that I’m working on something, something to keep us both safe. Just don’t ask me any more, all I’m asking is that you trust me.”

“I trust you,” Dean said and deep down, he knew it was true. Even though he’d only known Cas a few months, he trusted this man with his life and the thought was as terrifying as it was glorious.

“Good,” Cas said, planting a kiss on Dean’s cheek. “Let’s go to bed, you still haven’t told me about this restaurant.”  

x

Dean didn’t bring the subject up again. It wasn’t worth the fight and he had too much going on to really worry about it anyway. The hospital had been inundated with people suffering from a nasty flu virus and twice as many people who think they also have it, and insist on blocking up the ER rather than just staying home.

By the time he’d finished his shift on Friday, he debated going back to his apartment and just crashing out. But then he remembered that most of his stuff was at Cas’s place and that Becky will have re-stocked the fridge for the weekend. Plus, Cas had a giant tub and Dean would give anything for a soak, possibly with some of those bath salts he knows Cas keeps and maybe some bubble bath as well.

Cas had recently trusted him with a key, so Dean was already neck deep in steaming, perfumed water by the time the other man returned.

“Bad day?” asked Cas. Dean nodded his head slightly in response, his eyes closed as he tried not to drag his mind away from the state of relaxation he was trying to achieve.

“People should learn than a slight sniffle is not killer flu. Google man, I swear to fucking god.”

“Yes, they should.” Dean could hear Cas moving around and the soft sound of clothing hitting the floor. “Mind if I join you?” Cas asked, his breath hot against Dean’s ear, voice deliciously deep and soft. Dean flicked his eyes open, casually eyeing up the sinful picture before him, before he raised an eyebrow and smirked.

“Go ahead.”

Cas settled in behind him; a warm, solid presence for Dean to relax into. They lay there for a while in comfortable silence, Cas’s hand casually stroking up and down Dean’s chest.

“Dean,” Cas said, breaking the silence. “I’ve been thinking.”

“About what?” Dean added, too sleepy to really care.

“About what you said last week, that you want to tell Sam.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Dean muttered, snuggling further back into the Cas’s chest. “Doesn’t matter.”

“It matters to you though,” Cas said, pressing a soft kiss to Dean’s temple. “He’s your brother and your relationship with him is very to different to the one I have with my brothers.”

“Yeah, he won’t murder me for dating you for one thing,” Dean chuckled, “but I get it, I do. You’re just protecting us.”

“No, right now I’m protecting me. I don’t want to tell my family, that’s true, but that’s for vastly different reasons,” Cas hesitated, his body stiffening below Dean.

“You know you can tell me anything right?”

“I know. It’s just… I’ve never been able to do that before. It’s difficult,” Cas sighed, before continuing, his voice full of sorrow, “I’ve already lost someone once, I won’t do it again.”

Dean shifted, rolling himself over so he was lying on top of Cas, resting his arms and head on Cas’s chest. Castiel’s expression was schooled into an unreadable mask, but his blue eyes shone with unshed tears. “Tell me.” It was a request, not a demand. Dean leant forward to place a soft kiss on Cas’s lips, “tell me what happened?”

“His name was Alfie. We met in college. It was the first time I felt like I’d had a little freedom, I was even allowed to move into dorms. Michael thought it would be good for me, said it would teach me people skills. I still had a room to myself though. Alfie was in my economics class, he just sat down next to me on the first day and started chatting away,” Cas smiled hollowly at the memory, “I’d never met anyone like him. We began hanging out, just studying together at first, but then it was movies and school football games and nights in my room. He fascinated me. He was the most beautiful boy I’d ever met at that point – so sweet and carefree and innocent.”

“You fell in love with him.”

“Yes, I did. I couldn’t help it. It was the best year of my life… and then Michael found out.” Cas paused, tilting his head back to stare at the ceiling. “I don’t know how he found out, but he did. He came in to my dorm room one morning, I don’t even know how he got in, and we were in bed together. I’d never seen him so angry. He threw Alfie out of my room. It wasn’t because he was a boy, it was because Alfie was so beneath me, so worthless to the family. Michael said I had to end it and that he was going to move me back to the family estate because I clearly couldn’t make good judgements. I just sat there and sobbed, begging him to reconsider. I felt so worthless.” A single tear slid down Cas’s cheek and Dean felt his heart breaking. “I did what I was told though, because without Michael I was nothing, I had nothing… Alfie was killed a few days later in a car accident on the way to visit his mother. I never had any proof, but I know it was Michael who killed him… love had made me weak. He couldn’t have me being weak.”

Dean didn’t know what to say. What could he say? He had no idea how Cas had managed to continue all this time, especially with that suspicion and doubt always on his mind. To know that your brother had taken away your first love, so cruelly and completely, and yet to continue to serve that brother – Dean wasn’t sure if it was strength or something else entirely. It was probably something born of fear. If Michael could snuff out Alfie’s life so easily, what was to stop him doing it to Dean? He understood now, why Cas was protecting him, and it made his heart ache.  

“I’m sorry,” he said, finally, but the words tasted like ash in his mouth. “Thank you… for telling me. For trusting me.” He lifted himself up, hands resting either side of Cas on the edges of the tub. Cas gazed up at him, eyes swollen with unshed tears. Dean leant down to press a soft kiss onto Castiel’s lips. “I’m not leaving you, I promise.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” Castiel said, pulling Dean down on top of him and pressing a fierce kiss to his mouth.

“I’m not,” Dean replied, breaking free momentarily, “we’ll figure this out. You and I. Together.”

Another kiss, followed by another, followed by a thousand more – hot, desperate and wanting. Hands roamed wet bodies and gasped out noises echoed off the tiles. For a while they could forget anyone else existed and pretend that they were completely alone in the universe.

x

Castiel glanced around the restaurant again. While he knew he exuded an air of calm and composure, inside his mind was running a million miles a minute. This was a completely ridiculous idea and he couldn’t quite believe he’d allowed Dean to talk him into this.

“Cas, you ok?” Dean’s face was a picture of concern, “look we don’t have to do this if you don’t want. We can just tell them I got called in.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Cas said, squeezing Dean’s hand under the table. “But I appreciate the offer. Thank you.” He shot Dean a small smile and was contemplating asking him a question, when Dean jumped to his feet, gazing over Castiel’s shoulder.

“Hey Sammy, Jess! Glad you could make it.” The look on Dean’s face was ecstatic, and it was all the confirmation that Castiel needed that he was making the right choice. He’d doing anything to make Dean smile. “This is my boyfriend, James.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Castiel said, reaching out to shake Sam’s hand. The man’s grip was firm, which Castiel appreciated, although he’s sure that Sam was looking him up and down in a strange way. Castiel suspected immediately that Sam knew, but it didn’t frighten him. This was nothing more than another game to play, and Michael had taught him well.

Castiel turned to Jess, taking her hand in his and placing a soft kiss on the fingers. “You are truly beautiful, Dean certainly hasn’t done you any justice. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“You too,” Jess smiled, although it feels a little cold and Castiel wondered whether she knew as well. Dean had confessed that Sam and Jess were partners, but as far as Dean knew they didn’t work on anything particularly exciting. Castiel hadn’t had the heart to tell Dean what they actually did, especially since Dean was starting to look more relaxed now everyone had been introduced. He didn’t need to know that Castiel had started a private investigation into Sam as soon as he knew what the younger Winchester did for a living.  

Frank had done a good job with the research and Cas had paid him handsomely for his silence.

“So, James,” Sam began, once they were all seated at the table.

“Please, call me Jimmy,” Cas said. It was the name he and Dean had agreed to used for him in front of his family. Technically James Collins was a legal name, just not one Castiel used very often.

“Right, so, Dean hasn’t really told us a lot about you,” Sam continued, fixing Castiel with a steely look.

“That’s my fault, I’m quite a private person,” Castiel laughed, reaching over the table to take Dean’s hand, “but Dean is really starting to help me come out of me shell a little.”

“That’s so sweet,” Jess said, “so, how did you meet?”

“At the hospital, a friend of mine had been in an accident and I went looking for her. I confess, I wasn’t particularly nice to Dean that first night!” Cas smiled at Dean, remembering that night in November. They’d decided to stick to the truth as far as possible, after all the best lies still had grains of the truth.

“Not nice?” Dean added, “you were a dick!”

“Yes, but a cute one.”

“I guess,” Dean said, “and you sent me cookies.”

“I sent the nurses cookies, they were the ones doing the hard work!”

It was funny, Cas realised, how easily the settled into playing the happy couple. Maybe because, at the heart of it, they didn’t really have to pretend. All they had to do was bend the truth. Besides, if it all went wrong, Castiel had plans.

The conversation moved on, and dinner passed pleasantly enough despite the barrage of questions from the other couple. Even Dean picked up on it, snarking at Sam for asking so many obtrusive questions. Castiel had simply smiled and acted as if everything was fine. After all, perhaps this was how all families acted when being introduced to someone’s new partner. It wasn’t as if Castiel had any experience to draw upon.

“So, Jimmy,” Sam asked, pouring him another glass of wine, “what do you do?”

“I’m an accountant, so lots of very boring paperwork. What about you?” Cas asked offhandedly, curious to see what Sam’s answer would be.

“I do paperwork for the government, nothing special. Just a lot of forms to fill in and file.”

“Isn’t it always the way,” Cas remarked casually. “I guess not everyone’s jobs can be exciting though.”

“No,” said Sam, an icy smile on his face, “I suppose not.” 

x

Dean was curled up on his side, a peaceful expression on his face when Castiel awoke dripping in sweat. His heart was pounding in his chest, hands shaking as he clutched at the sheets trying to steady his breathing. Visions of Alfie’s body in the morgue, bloodied and battered still danced across his vision, Michael’s cold voice playing over the top.

_“Remember your family, Castiel. Remember your loyalty.”_

It had been a while since that particular nightmare had surfaced, reminding Castiel of why he’d often gone to bed drunk before he’d met Dean. Whiskey had always been good at supressing his memories.

The carpet was soft under his feet as he slid them to the floor, gripping the edge of the mattress as he stared blankly into the air in front of him. They’d forgotten to close the curtains before they slept, too busy wrapped up in each other’s bodies to care. Castiel had found himself lying flat on his back while Dean took him apart with his sinful tongue and fingers, bringing him to the edge over and over until Castiel had begged for release. The resulting orgasm had him seeing stars, whiting out his vision as he emptied down Dean’s throat.

It wasn’t the first time he’d allowed Dean such power over him, but it was the furthest he’d allowed Dean to go. Stroking and licking his rim, teasing the sensitive nerves with his tongue, gently probing the ring of muscle while Castiel clasped at the sheets, Dean’s name a litany on his lips.

“Hey.” Dean’s soft voice startled Cas, and he twitched violently when he felt the doctor lay a steady hand on his shoulder. “Are you ok?”

“Yeah, just had a nightmare, go back to sleep,” Cas muttered, waving his hand in an attempt to brush Dean off.

“You wanna talk about it?” Dean asked, winding his arms around Castiel’s waist, slotting in behind him, legs either side of Castiel’s, pulling Cas firmly to his chest.

Castiel sighed, breathing in Dean’s soft scent and taking comfort in the warm, steady weight of his embrace. “Not really… just dreaming about the past.”

“Was it about Alfie?” Dean asked, nuzzling into Castiel’s neck. “You mutter his name in your sleep sometimes.”

“… yes…” Castiel stared out of the window in front of him, watching the lights of the city dance in the darkness. “I dreamt of his body. When Michael took me to see him in the morgue.”

Dean said nothing, but instead pressed a soft kiss to Castiel’s neck and squeezed him gently. A casual reminder of how much he cared.

“I can’t do this anymore Dean. I can’t support my brother and do his dirty work, cleaning up his messes while he sits in his ivory tower.” Castiel shivered, despite the warmth of the bedroom. “Everyday I feel them closing in around me. Everyday I feel myself slipping a little further into the darkness. There’s barely any light left. And the wolves are closing in… I want to get out.”  

“Whatever you choose, I’m here for you,” added Dean, his voice barely above a whisper, “I’ll always be here.”

“I can’t ask you to do that,” Castiel said. “You don’t know what will happen. Those words have signed my death warrant. I’m not even sure I can make it out of this alive.”

“I’m not asking, I’m telling you. I’m not leaving. Whatever’s going to happen, it’s going to happen with me here.” Dean’s voice was as firm as his grip. “I love you Castiel Novak. And one way or another, we’ll figure this out.”

Castiel smiled, a tiny seed of hope planting itself in his chest. A glimmer of light in the darkness.

“I love you too.”  

**Author's Note:**

> Depending on how much I get done, I'll try to update on a two weekly basis. Thanks for reading!


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